


A Longing Under The Lonely Mountain

by VoidMatron



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Awesome Bofur, Bearded Dwarf Women, Bofur is a Sweetheart, Bottom Thorin, Class Issues, Dom/sub Play, Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf Gender Concepts, Dwarf History & Lore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Good King Thorin, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men Being Emotional, Men Crying, Mutual Pining, NSFW Art, Oral Sex, Other, Past Domestic Violence, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Thorin Feels, Thorin is a Softie, Trans Bofur, Trans Male Character, Trans Nori, Unresolved Romantic Tension, men being soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidMatron/pseuds/VoidMatron
Summary: The Lonely Mountain now lays successfully reclaimed by Thorin and his Company, yet with a war won and the lands in need of just rulers, there is a hellbent desire for a long awaited age of prosperity that was promised decades ago. With this time of peace, Bofur and his kin are elevated to greater status that leads to him finally wishing to act out his objectives in possibly courting a long forgotten love; Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erebor.
Relationships: Bofur/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a means to explore headcanon ideas of Dwarf Culture that isn't wholly spoken on in Tolkien's works. Of course I'm a big fan of Bofur/Thorin and their character dynamics that don't wholly cross beyond their interactions with Bilbo, so this is also a great way to speculate and contemplate over "what if's" and "why's" that aren't wholly discussed.
> 
> As per protocol, I'll put Content/Trigger Warnings (C/TW:) at the beginning of each chapter to give a heads up to readers. Bottom notes are strictly for translation/explanation on Dwarven slang/lingo!

The final battle had been arduous and at its peak like any other war; bloody, violent, countless casualties, and needless deaths. Yet Bofur had survived and by Mahal he came out of the ordeal with only cuts, bruises, and a broken rib. It was a victory like no other, an epic that would surely be told throughout the ages of Man, Elf, and Dwarf alike rallied together to thwart Azog and his ilk. Everyone had their own recounts of what had transpired, each individual had a story to tell and by the gods each one would be recorded for future generations to look upon. Thorin, Fili, and Kili had suffered violently, but they had survived. They had  _ all  _ survived and Azog's head was cleaved from his shoulders by Thorin's blade.

All had spent days, if not weeks, recovering within Erebor's great halls upon the gilded floors where Thorin and the others had tried to smelt and drown Smaug in a molten wave of gold. It too was something of legendary, that Dain and Thorin had agreed to allow the People of Laketown and the Elves of Mirkwood to behest themselves with rest within Dwarven territory. Insisted upon at that, for those first transpiring days, it was  _ quiet.  _ Beyond the wails and whines of children or infants being hugged close by their kin, everyone seemed to be in a state of numbness and shock that left them only to murmur amongst one another. Nobody dared to speak up or out, all were hellbent to simply process everything that had transpired. Among the whispers and lowly talk, whispers of Thorin, Fili, and Kili's condition passed through ears of every sort.

All were concerned and it was if everyone was holding their breath for the inevitable unknown. Yet the three had remarkably pulled through, albeit somewhat bruised and beaten, they were greatly exhausted while groaning for rest with a strong drink. There was a great quiet that followed those days of rest that would eventually become something of a ritual holiday in the near future; three days of mourning and silence to sympathize upon those who had been lost or others who had lost loved ones in the battle. Bodies were buried and laid to rest, the wounded were tended to and all breathed a deep sigh of relief.  _ It was over. They had claimed victory.  _ Although all wasn't well, everyone could unanimously agree that The Worst was over. While many wept or recovered, soldiers and scouts were sent out to scour the lands, word was spreading swift about the slaughter of Smaug and the great Army of Azog destroyed. Birds of all kinds were the first to arrive, they chased off the carrion vultures and shrikes, quick to feast on the slain evil to wash the lands and valleys clean with their sing song melodies. It was a cacophony of their victories, as if Yavanna herself was praising the triumphs of Man, Dwar, and Elf alike.

Yet in time, the healing transpired into gradual celebration where the great leaders relocated themselves to more private chambers to discuss the ordeals of what had transpired and what to do next. They did what was best by ensuring none, but a select few were permitted to be present among the meeting which started off with tense silence only to flourish into a bereavement of arguments and confrontational verbal outbursts that had many of them stressed to the point where Gandalf bellowed strong enough to cause the walls to shake and the floor to rumble. A recess was had, many departed to pick up their bruised prides from tongue lashings and more snarled curses under their breath when storming out.  Bofur had managed to wrangle Bilbo to join him upon the outer balcony for some tea and small comforts of a more quieter locale that bid promise to the cool mountain air and the smell of wildflowers that had been recently potted upon the ledge. It was one of the few secluded spots that provided the peace of privacy to where they could avoid prying eyes from judgement of what company they kept with one another.

"Don't tell me  _ all  _ Dwarven diplomacies are like  _ that?" _ Bilbo asked as he rubbed the back of his head to groan over his headache.

"Oh aye, but with more food bein' thrown about usually," Bofur mused with a chuckle.

"Goodness, how do any of you accomplish peace?"

"We don't, at least not with other races obviously. It's social barrier that's been having the lot of us bickering since the First Age, Bilbo."

"Why's that? You all objectively want the same thing. What's stopping you from achieving it?"

"Mostly cultural conflicts. Dwarves and Elves live longer than Manfolk, we also bear  _ long  _ memories. We haven't forgotten old battles and petty wars between our ilk. Also the way we speak jus' clashes a lot of times."

Bilbo appeared intrigued as he sat up in his seat to grab another biscuit as Bofur went on to explain the social difference. It may have been quite odd for outsiders, especially Hobbit Folk who surely had their own little colloquial and different language that made their kind exclusive just as well. Yet the disparagingly big difference was mostly on tone that often drove a wedge of confusion atop the many layers of confrontations; Dwarves had a strong reputation for not only being a deeply private race, but also having a very forward tone with their words. They didn't entirely filter themselves and spoke in a way to Humans and Elves that sounded deeply harsh--blunt in a way that made Dwarves come off being borderline offensive. Even the best speaking of Dwarves had a very forward perspective that came with the age old saying;  _ Never ask a Dwarf for their opinion.  _ They spoke true on their ideals and mindsets, combine that with a strong sense of duty, honor, and warrior's pride, an eloquently speaking Dwarf could out smack talk even the keenest of Elves if they had the desire to do so.

Whereas Elves spoke with a refinement that could only be compared to poetry, if not worse. Euphemisms and edict quotes from long forgotten eras came from their lips like water from stone. It simply came with their nature and their immortality, for even the youngest Elf was older than the eldest Dwarf, Elves simply spoke with a sense of beauty and self control to where they were able to recite ancient scriptures and tales into the meanings of their lectures that often went over the heads of many who couldn't relate to such references. The Silvan Elves of Mirkwood had of course gradually learned to generally erode themselves away from such strict social eloquence by following humans and Dwarves with being apt at bluntness, but that was only shown in the passions of battle to taunt or belittle their enemies. As for the race of Man? They varied greatly given that they often travel far and wide, their languages were greatly different even among one another that even by class there were different tones.

"That's.. _ good lord _ , Bofur. How are any of you ever going to come to an agreement?"

"We probably won't. At least not this very instant with how things are looking, but we'll come to some kinda mutual understanding when winter gets worse around here and makes things dire."

"What makes you say that?"

"Harsh weather has a way of softening hard prides like a mallet to meat, Bilbo."

"Hmn, I suppose so, but I noticed you didn't speak up either."

"Ah, it's not m'place to speak on such matters. My lot aren't Durinsfolk and to be quite honest, we're not a very political lot. Give us a keg and a warm hearth with pies? We'll be content enough!"

Bilbo snorted a chuckle, giving a tired smile as Bofur tipped back in his seat to sip at his cup of ale while enjoying the cool breeze that passed by.

"There's been something I've been meaning to ask you, though words have eluded me these past few days."

"Given with what we've all been through, that's not too surprising, laddie."

"Would you like to come back to the Shire with me?"

Bofur snorted hard enough to spill ale down his front and cough while Bilbo stammered as he handed him a handkerchief to help dry and clean his front off.

"I'm sorry! I should have timed it a little better--"

"No no! M'not too messy! It's just unexpected is all! I knew you were to be leavin' soon, but…" Bofur trailed off, clearing his throat to stand. "That's very much appreciated and a very lovely offer, Bilbo, but  _ I can't _ . My place is here among my lot just as your's is within the Shire."

"Which I'm starting to question as we speak. You know, Thorin offered me a home here among you lot--"

"Of course he did."

"Now there's no reason to harbor contempt!"

"Who says it be contempt?"

"Oh please, Bofur! Everyone knows you and Thorin harbor an ire of some sorts. What did he even  _ do  _ to gain such contempt? What that may be was pushed aside for the quest and clearly you haven't--"

"Tis not ire, but jealousy!"

Bofur was quick to shut his mouth and stand to look away, fists clenched so tight that knuckles went white. Bilbo stood and moved in to stand behind Bofur, doing his best to keep space between them as to not risk discomfort.

" 'Tis but jealously,' he says. Though I wonder if that jealousy hides a longing kept secret?"

"A longing that's been hidden for nigh almost a century. Possibly longer."

"Then one must wonder; why has he--"

"Because it is not my place! Because to vie after royalty risks humiliation!  _ Shame and judgement! _ My kin have suffered from the sakin' of Khazad-dûm, stacked upon the shame we endured from bein' clanless! The last we be needin' is for one of their own to be pining after some King who has eyes for a Hobbit that fears to be by his side!"

"Bofur I--"

"I see the way he looks upon you, Bilbo!"

Bilbo flinched, a grimace upon his face as he heard the small, indignant sniff from Bofur that made him reach out and move in to comfort Bofur by placing a hand on his shoulder while giving a firm squeeze to get his attention. Bofur didn't turn right away, taking a moment to wipe his face from the few tears of frustration that wet his cheeks and clearing his throat.

"I wouldn't be upset if you stayed. My frustrations be with Thorin and Thorin alone, lad. Though if you do wish to stay, t'would be quite promising. You'd be treated well, ya know."

"I assure you, I know well enough of the luxuries that come with wealth and status, but as you said; my place is in the Shire just as yours is here. If it brings you any comfort, I don't vie for Thorin in such ways."

"Who do you vie for?"

"Mnn..I vie for a cup of hot brandy and a venison pasty right about now!"

They both broke out in laughter pulling each other into a warm hug as they exhaled tired sighs. Two friends embraced tight, both reluctant to let go too soon, but pulling back to tuck cheek against head and shoulder.

"M'gonna miss you, Bilbo."

"I'll miss you dearly, Bofur. You lot are more than welcome to come and visit anytime you like, before eight preferably. Honestly, who has guests so late?"

Bofur snorted a low chuckle and tried to hold back more tears, but he could feel his eyes watering and nose getting stuffy yet again.

"I wish you would find your voice."

"My voice?"

"The courage to speak up. It seems like the only time you've got the gumption to speak out of turn is at the most unexpected moments that tend to get you in so much trouble!"

"Tis quite a lovely gift, but I don't have much bravery for that sorta thing."

Bilbo snorted as stood straight to adjust Bofur's hat before tugging on the collar of his coat to make sure both were perfectly even. A small sigh was had that showed Bilbo's bemused smile at Bofur's ever charming snark.

"Then you use what strengths you have and go from there," he murmured gently to pat Bofur's shoulder again before taking his leave with intentions to obtain more rest. Bofur wasn't sure what to do with himself in that moment, his thoughts wandered on that questioning on whether or not he'd take Bilbo's advice, if it was truly something to be genuinely heeded. He knew Bilbo was ignorant of their ways, yet in that moment all Bofur could truly do was turn heel and take his leave with head heavy and eyes stinging from holding back tears.


	2. Chapter 2

Bofur stood quietly along the threshold of a grand set of double doors that led into the private chambers of Thorin; King of The Lonely Mountain. Donned in the royal armor of the Thegnâri, he felt somewhat awkward wearing such finery that had to be far more expensive than the meager wages he used to earn when being a simple miner in Luín. It had been a few weeks since Thorin's crowning and Bilbo departing back to the Shire, yet it was greatly unexpected that Bofur and his kin were beckoned to kneel before Thorin, he praised their efforts, their durability and apt bravery that was nowhere near the unbridled loyalty they harbored for their King and his kin. They were no longer seen as lesser, if anything the three and their families were now of equal status of that of nobles if not greater due to Thorin's Company becoming an upper echelon of his inner council. Thanes and Noblemen, yet for Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur they became Housecarls and personal Thegnâri to King Thorin. Neither of them had truly expected to receive such a push-up in status, they surely didn't refuse it, but even now Bofur was still staring down at the gleaming armor brandished over his torso. It had been the third time today he had to stop and admire the intricate craftsmanship, the way it had been refurbished and repadded with doeskin leathers brought a familiar comfort that harbored little discomfort. Yet Bofur had been rather quiet in passing which was noted by his companions who took curious glances in his direction. Often, Bofur had been the sort to whistle a chipper tune or hum about with a pep in his step. He'd always strut about with a grin and a tankard of ale in one hand, a pipe or pasty in the other, so to see him look as sullen as a hag with no teeth was making them do prompt double takes when he didn't pop off with snarky remarks of cheeky banter that he was notoriously known for.

Although his cousin and brother had firmly stated that he was merely mourning Bilbo's leaving, it didn't stop the whispers of speculation that Bofur was sick or maybe even struck too many times in the head during the war had made him simple. Truth be told, Bofur was frustrated. More so in the sense of exasperated and feeling greatly defeated over his own emotions. He had taken Bilbo's advice after he left; speak up more, time it better, give input, and muster up some courage to approach Thorin on your feelings! Bofur had tried multiple times to reach out to Thorin, to speak to the king in private with hopes that he could at least confess some of what he felt. Even better, Bofur had genuinely tried to speak up more in meetings when he was present, but he swiftly discovered that he was spoken over or simply disregarded. Bofur learned quickly that it was quite the sad realization of those who he thought were his allies were so quick to tune him out without much care upon his input. He learned just as fast that if nobody listened, then why bother to speak at all? In the absence of interaction, Bofur at least found some peace to write down his thoughts and ideals within a blank journal he had found.

The days turned into weeks that dragged slowly by and with it came with the warning signs of an early and long winter with how every morning frost crept upon the ceilings and along the windows. The lords of the land still bickered and pecked at one another due to age old confrontations never being let go. It was becoming a growing concern that yet another war would erupt if neither side conceded to the other. It was a standoff of the ages; Bard the Bowman, now Master of Dale, was demanding Thorin bear extra compensations for damages and destruction wrought upon Laketown due to their interference with Smaug. Thorin could easily understand why Bard was hellbent for more than his option's share of the horde, but it was Thranduil, Elfking of Mirkwood who always triggered his wrath to the point of being red in the face. Thranduil as well wanted compensation, seeing it as justifiable payment for breaking the laws and escaping from his prison, yet he too also agreed that Thorin should be required to pay for _all_ their grievances. Which in turn had made Thorin furious and justifiably so; why should they have to be placed in the position to heal and restore _everything?_ Just because they had the wealth didn't mean they were so swift to dole it out in great portions just yet! Thorin was hellbent to wait until his kin arrived from Luín first, and even then he hadn't entirely finished splitting the payment funds to his Companions. Thorin didn't approve of the heavy expectancy of being burned with so much responsibility all at once. It left him guarded and defensive to where he refused to speak to either one of them, in turn Thranduil sneered that it was that age old Dragon's Greed that was clearly still plaguing Thorin's mind like venom. Bard on the other hand, simply grew frustrated and impatient over the entire ordeal.

So yet again, Bofur stood guard of the great double doors that opened with Bard storming out, cursing loudly, the clang of goblet being thrown after which only followed with Thranduil moving with all the grace of a great wind as Thorin and a few others spewed curses in Khûzdul in their leaving. Bofur watched with wide eyes full of curiosity, leaning to peek inside to see Dwalin and Gloin signing more insults as he and Bifur were given the signal to close the doors. Bofur watched Thranduil and Bard speak low to one another as they took their leave down the stairs, he leaned somewhat, watching the other dignitaries follow suit that only came with a quick glance towards Bifur to upnod in his direction and sign a quick gesture that he was taking a lunch break. His cousin upnodded right back, confirming he could hold the position on his own and watching Bofur quickly run off down the same direction as the two Lords.

Bofur waited until he was out of proper earshot before barking a yell of commotion that made Elf ears twitch and perk as they turned to look upon him with judgmental curiosity. Bard's guards stood straighter and blocked his way which only made Bofur huff indignantly.

"Oi! Let me through! I need to talk to'em!"

"Hold yourself, _Dwarf._ "

"Hold yerself and mine as well! Let me through!"

"Watch your tongue!"

" _Let me pass!"_

Bard and Thranduil turned to observe the commotion, curious on what was keeping their men and moving to order them to be still as Bofur was allowed to pass. Bofur took a moment to catch his breath, doubling over and holding his hand up in apology before clearing his throat.

"You two are goin' about this all wrong! Thorin's not bein' greedy, he's offended you lot are _demanding_ so much of'em! No right minded folks _demand_ stuff of a Dwarf!"

Bard raised an incredulous brow and crossed his arms over his chest to give Bofur's words some thought. Thranduil glanced in his direction and he looked back before they both glanced down at Bofur to continue. Bofur looked up and around, glancing at the steeples and arching stairs above their heads that came with the peeking shuffle of boots, a shadow moving to duck behind a pillar. It wasn't uncommon that there were spies, scouts of Dain had been positioned throughout Erebor to secretly monitor Thranduil and Bard--any outsider--to ensure they maintained a sense of respectability and because of a great lack of trust. Bofur didn't have much time, he knew it'd be minutes before he was approached and questioned.

"Recant yer proclamations and apologize to King Thorin, admit that you were in the wrong even if ya don't believe it to be so. You can't depend on a Dwarf till ya show humbleness and that ye can manage on yer own first. _Ask for what is rightfully yours and no more!"_

"What do you mea--"

Bofur was already turning to take his leave, running back up the stairs and down the hall to leave Bard and Thranduil looking at one another to ponder over the advice that almost sounded ominous coming from the Dwarf.

\-----

"Tha' was fast. Were ya hungry, laddie?"

"I'm still hungry! They had pepperloaf--"

"Eugh, say no more! Those Ironhill folk dunno how to make a proper loaf if it was thrown at'em!"

"It was quite morbid lookin'. We gotta get Bombur to make us some," Bofur said as he chuckled nervously at Bifur.

He didn't enjoy lying, especially to Bifur since he knew Bifur was far more keen than what he led to be, but Bofur had little choice in the matter. Things were dire and deep down he felt a personal shame for going behind the backs of his people and his King, he also felt weirdly accomplished and it seemed to perk up his mood a little to where him and Bifur spoke further on the future prospects of what Erebor was to become.

"I hear Thorin's to expand the royal district a bit. Says he's hellbent to have us be living there before the noblefolk that keel-towed under his father make their way about."

"Keepin' us all rather close, ain't he?"

"Aye, it's quite flatterin'! He's practically regarding the lot of us as equals at this point. S'nice, ya know? We'll no longer have tae struggle, Bofur. Our clan's well respected now! We're _noblefolk_!"

"Ough! Does this mean you're gonna be dressin' all frilly and fancy?"

"I just might!"

They both snorted with laughter at the visual of Bifur looking smug and fancy for once. Bifur chuckled a little longer before exhaling a deep sigh to look over at his younger cousin with cheeky amusement.

"I'm quite proud of you, Bofur. Who woulda thought this sort of adventure would lead to us being in such roles?"

"We didn't really get our free beer, ya know."

"Aye we should really talk to Thorin about that! Still, as I told you before we left; this is to be me and Bombur's last adventure--"

"Now hold on--"

"Bofur, I'm too bloody old to be out there runnin' about and doin' Mahal knows what. This guard duty be fine, but now that I've got gold under me belt? The moment Thorin hands me that home, I'm fit to settle like Bombur has."

"With two wives and twelve pebbles?"

"Possibly more if m'lucky!"

They both laughed again, Bofur shook his head and exhaled a tired sigh. It was expected and he knew such talk was bound to come up. Bifur wasn't terribly old, not as old as most dwarves, but he was _tired._ He had earned his honour and stripes by fighting in plenty of battles and now two wars, which didn't even count the immeasurable tales of misadventures traveling from The Blue Mountains to Bree and beyond. Bombur had of course never strived for the open road and wanderlust. A homely Dwarf who favored hearth and home with his passion for food or romancing any Dam that crossed his path. Virility and a full belly were the only two thoughts that harbored in Bombur's mind.

"You know, this would be the best of times for you to settle as well," Bifur said with a suggestive tone.

Bofur choked out a noise and scoffed loudly at such a statement that made him double take hard at his cousin who only rolled his eyes and smirked.

"I'm simply saying that.. _well_..maybe you should seek out to be courted is all."

"I would rather ride a Warg."

"Maybe if you rode someone, you'd not spend these days sulking!"

" _Bifur_!"

"I speak only for yer wellbeing, Bofur. Bombur and I have seen how ya are, we're worried about ya, laddie. So.. _maybe_ if you had someone to distract you from all that pining for Bilbo."

" _Who's startin' that up again?_ Bilbo and I never--"

Bifur raised his brows expectantly at Bofur, knowing damn well that his cousin was about to lie through his teeth right in front of his face. Bofur's cheeks went pink as he gestured with a wave of his hand.

"Íng turkât nôl! Nârbazgi thak!"

"Was it worth mining the Hobbit's silver if you got nothing in return? Gods above, Bofur--I don't be judgin' who ya do or don't lay with, but I wish you'd just... _find someone to let in and love you!_ Why do ya harbor such caution? Yer a mighty fine Dwar, your bloodlines are fertile--"

" _Clearly,"_ Bofur scoffed at the remark hinting more at his brother than himself.

"You'd get suitors ya know. Even now with so few of us about, you're a lovely _Brýnkrink_ that harbors beautiful _volâr-ril_. You'd be able to take yer pick! I hear Dwalin's keen on ye too!"

" _Dwalin?"_ Bofur repeated, genuinely surprised by that bit of information, but shrugging it aside for now with an annoyed sigh. "Aye, I know, but most Dwarborne ain't keen on finding out that a _Brýnkrink_ Damborne chose tae live their life more as a Dwar. Moment they find out their Dam prefers to be a fellow that wants to do the things they do, folks be rather quick to have a _lot_ to say. Which I ain't got any time to stand around and listen to folks nag how I be supposed to be livin'!"

Bifur sighed and shook his head at his cousin with a smile. Bofur had been obstinate and headstrong about such ideals ever since he had chosen to be a Dwar, and although his kin had supported him with such changes, they pitied their opinionated kin in ways that they knew Bofur couldn't wholly see until it was too late. If Bofur ever _did_ find someone to settle with, then they prayed that whomever it may be had the patience and strength to endure Bofur's rebelliousness.

"So what of your ever so elusive drunkard? Does mine cousin still pine for that lowly lout?" Bifur teased again as Bofur made an indignant noise to snap out a curse while he barked out with laughter at mocking his little cousin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Thegnâri - Noble/Royal Housecarls aka; an elite order of knights/bodyguards who personally guarded the wellbeing of Dwarven Royalty.  
> Pebbles - Dwarf slang for children.  
> Pepperloaf - A commonly made Dwarven bread stuffed with chili peppers and garlic.  
> Íng turkât nôl! Nârbazgi thak - It was only of mouth! Nothing more!  
> Brýnkrink - Gemback; certain Dwarves that are genetically predisposed with the natural ability to grow gemstones from their bodies. Namely their upper and/or lower backs, but can also be seen growing from limbs and patches along the torso.  
> volâr-ril - Blue Gold; a rare genetic strain of Brýnkrink deformity where a Dwarf will grow blue, amber-like stone from their backs.  
> Dwarborne - Dwarven term for born Male.  
> Damborne - Dwarven term for born Female.


	3. Chapter 3

Bofur sat within the royal hall of the inner chambers where they all gathered to discuss and debate their trials for the coming week, supper was had of a lovely knûrla stew with thick biscuits and of course, a sweet honeyed mead that had been found in the great pantries below. He was happily talking with Dwalin over future prospects of training regiment for the guard, although he wasn't looking forward to the ordeals of Dwalin's strict routine, he was rather hopeful of getting back into some sort of workout habit as to not garner softness in his midsection. They debated the idea of axe throwing being introduced, which Dwalin seemed to perk up with surprise that Bofur was interested in obtaining such a battle skill. As far as he knew, Bofur wasn't an outright hellbent one that liked to throw himself into battle, yet Bofur was prompt to explain that he'd never properly grasped the bow, but he was a damn good knife thrower--so why not up to throwing axes instead.

"I suppose we could work that in, damned smart idea actually. By the way, Bofur, is it true?" Dwalin asked with voice lowering when he asked a question.

"Is what true?"

"That yer  _ Brýnkrink?  _ Bifur was talkin to me about it yesterday. That's quite a lovely thing to be--"

"What else did Bifur tell you?"

"Easy now, laddie! Don't get upset now! I only ask cause m'curious! Our nan was one, it's quite a rare trait! Balin there's lucky he can sprout a flake or two of brittle sheetrock from his knuckles. If it be bringin' any comfort I won't go crowin' bout it."

"That's..surprisingly kind of you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Dwalin drawled with sarcasm as he glared forwards.

Bofur averted his gaze a bit, sitting upright while grabbing his tankard and taking a sip to try and distract himself from the anxious churning from his gut.

"He also said ye were open for courtin?"

In that moment, Bofur drank too fast, gulped hard and choked into a coughing fit, sputtering his cup of mead and spilling the contents over his front that only caused his mustache to be wet and s few others to look over from their conversations to see if Bofur was alright. Bofur snatched a passed over handkerchief and wiped his front dry as he glowered at Bifur who was suddenly blind from seeing his little cousin glaring at him. Dwalin cleared his throat which made Bofur do a small double take before exhaling yet another frustrated sigh.

"Forgive me, Dwalin. I wasn't aware that m'cousin was prospectin' me like a smoked ham at the market."

"Ah, does this mean you're not--"

_"I am_ _not_. I'm sorry, Dwalin."

"Is it because of--"

"There's no excuse to be given cause there ain't any! It has nothin' to do with you either for that matter, yer a damn good lookin Dwar, but--"

"Am I hearing correctly? Dwalin are you pursuin' Bofur?" Fili asked, sounding surprised. "Bofur I didn't know you were open for courting!" He added a little too loudly.

Bofur blushed bright red as heads turned to look upon him curiously. Lips pursed tight as he inhaled deep to hold himself back from bellowing out in anger. Bofur bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood as he snorted hard as he brought his tankard to his face while grinning smugly.

"I ain't open for courtin' cause I already got eyes for someone!"

Now everyone was looking, groused with attention as they encouraged Bofur to keep talking. He left them hanging though, not speaking up immediately as he drank down the rest of his mead which only followed with justified agitation and even a dinner roll being thrown in his direction as he stood by using Dwalin's shoulder to heft himself upon the table fast with chest puffed proudly.

"I have eyes for greater than any of you sorry lot!"

"Dam or Dwar?"

"Tell us!"

"I vie after only  _ The Best _ ."

"Big ears and large breast?"

"Gorgeous eyes and flowing hair!"

"One who could withstand a troll's glare!"

_ Oh I pine for one who doesn't really notice me. _

_ For they lack whatever wit, or simply cannae' see! _

_ Only The Best! _

_ They're greater than the moon and their eyes shine like morning stars! _

_ They'll smirk at my wit and tend my battle scars, for I'll gladly face any foe and this I hope they'll know! _

_ O' only The Best! _

_ I care little for how they dress or of their wealth, I'll tend to them when sick and pray for better health! _

_ By Mahal they be blessed, I only want The Best! _

They all sang and slammed their fists on the table as Bofur carried on with the song, Nori joining him on the table to dance and sing along as a lute was pried from the nearby wall and strummed along as laughter erupted in tandem with the lyrics. Thorin watched from his seat at the far end of the table, amused by the sudden change of droning and smirking quietly to himself as he watched his friends and family sing about. Nori and Bofur gladly acting out a rather cheeky if not lewd play of a suitor and a dam flirting with one another. The jeers and laughter at their shenanigans had them all barking loudly with laughter, slapping knees, and choking on their drinks. Yet when Bofur removed his hat and donned a toy laurel of wilted flowers, just as he turned he managed to catch Thorin's gaze. Be it the way he turned or how the updraft of air from a fan being waved in his face, dark brown hair brushed over his face to only have eyes seen when in mid turn. Thorin could hear drums in his ears, a ringing of sorts that stopped him from breathing and made him freeze to cling to those few seconds that had slowed in their wake as if time itself were pausing to allow indulgence. Emeralds as sharp as blade wrought with flecks of gold. Malachite cut upon yellow string. An open field kissed by morning dew at sunrise.  _ He knew those eyes. He had seen them before!  _ Bofur was turning about, facing him again while holding out a filled tankard of mead with a happy grin and eyes flashing a bright green yet again.

*****

" _ You're to poison yer'self with all this drinking!" _

_ "Do you not drink as well?" _

_ "I drink in favor of mirth and joy not to forget and drown in sorrows! Goodness, already drunk again, here, come settle 'fore ya fall, you silly fool!" _

_ Thorin's head rested upon someone's lap within a barn, the smell of sweet hay and old wood clung to everything. It would have been freezing those nights, but the small fire and the embrace of soft arms draping a blanket over his body to secure heat. He didn't know who this young Dam was, she had come upon him one night within this barn, drowning his guilt and shame away via bottle. She hadn't left when he tried to scare her off, if anything she returned with food and fresh water to quietly sing and comfort his sorrows by listening to his troubles. He adored her eyes the most; as green and sharp as freshly cut emeralds that flashed gold when the light touched them. That Dam's eyes reminded him of...of..-- _

*****

_ "Oi Thorin!" _

He was pulled out of his thoughts, forced to blink hard and found himself leaning against Bofur. Had he fallen over? Why did his ears ring so loud? Thorin rubbed his temple as brows furrowed and head shook a bit to feel hands upon him that made him blink again at seeing Bofur far too close for comfort. Balin was there, as was Fili and Kili moving in closer to give him a once over that only came with him grabbing the edge of the table to stand from his knelt position.

"Bloody hell the King's gone a bit tipsy there! Maybe you've had enough, laddie?" Balin chuckled as he pushed the tankard away as the others laughed out loud.

"I'm fine, maybe I'm more tired than I thought."

"Be rather thankful Bofur was fast, woulda clocked yer head on the table if he'd not been about to catch ya!"

Bofur scoffed loudly as he adjusted Thorin's overcoat to make sure it was even before patting it down, he too was a little tipsy, grinning wide with cheeks and nose worn red.

"Thank you, Bofur."

"Bah! No problem! Do I be gettin a reward for me noble deeds?" Bofur asked as he leaned in to pretend to kiss Thorin only to be met with a hand being pressed over his face and shoved back. Bofur stumbled and toppled over onto the floor which came with a riotous din of laughter from the others including Bofur who seemed more than content to keep upon the dirty floor. Thorin laughed along as well, though his own cheeks had gone red with a surprised fluster that even he hadn't been entirely expecting and it only drove him to wonder exactly  _ why  _ he had felt so faint. Yet he didn't ponder on it for long, Thorin was handed a cup of mead that he drank down and slammed on the table which caused a rousing cheer of applause that drove all of them to break out in song once more.

\-----

Nightfall came and went, with it followed the commotion within the halls of Erebor that slumbered gently like sleeping giants. Bofur stirred awake for some unknown reason that drove him to rouse against the aches he felt in his limbs, though he struggled to remember why he felt so sore and tried to make sense from everything that had transpired. All that he could gather was music and mirth, then falling onto the floor which he assumed may have led to a playful bout of drunken wrestling. Either way, he felt oddly good and found himself meandering through the loud snores of those who remained, boots unsteady from almost slipping, but he kept moving with the desire to seek out fresh air and to possibly seek out greater comforts. Bofur wasn't expecting to disturb anyone, let alone to be stopped by a heavy hand grabbing his shoulder, forcing him to stay put as he frowned and turned to look up at Thorin watching over him.

"You're leaving?"

"Spent enough time on the floor dontcha' think?"

"Fair," Thorin mused with a chuckle. Yet the smile faded to show a subtle sense of concern. "There has been word you've been struggling with Bilbo's leaving and you haven't participated as much in council. Is everything alright?"

Bofur held still, averting his gaze to scratch the back of his neck and thought through his words carefully as he hissed back a small breath.

"I'll admit, Bilbo's leaving was a sore spot. He was quite the kind fellow and I miss his friendship, but m'fine. I have tried speaking durin' council, but I soon learned I ain't got much skill with such talks of debate and bicker with noblefolk."

"Then that means you have no advice at all?"

Bofur chuckled and adjusted his hat to push it off and shaking his head. "I have plenty of advice, but I'll not speak if I'm not to be heard."

Thorin considered those words and thinking back only came with the saddening realization that Bofur, one of his own Companions, had been neglected in a way. Unheard and disregarded that likely clashed with Bofur's lack of social tact that many brushed off as cheekiness or practical jokey. Guilt swept upon the King of Erebor in a fell swoop, but he quickly stood straight as his sore body would allow by clearing his throat and beckoning Bofur to walk by his side so that they could talk further.

"Well, I'm listening now. Speak freely, friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> knûrla stew - A Dwarven dish of ale marinated mushrooms, sliced radishes, and beef often served alongside with crusty bread.  
> The Best - Common Dwarf Drinking Song similar to the tune of "A Girl Worth Fighting For."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Blood/Violence

Thorin stood in front of his seat upon the throne looking over letters in each hand while gold rimmed spectacles rest upon the bridge of his nose. Low browed and stern, he studied the words written in Westorn and hummed low as Balin stood by his side, quietly pacing with him at each step. Not the week fully passed had a messenger from the great bridge delivered letters from both rival kings. At first, Thorin hadn't bothered to even read them, but with Balin pecking at possible warnings of confrontation, he had no choice but to relent and read over them. The contents were very odd even for Thorin to not take as something of suspect. In a matter of days, Thranduil and Bard had 'flipped the rock' so to speak, by changing their tunes of persistence with demand to a more subtle tone of caution.

"I must admit, their apologies rest rather numbly. Listen to this;  _ Tis upon mine heart that I begrudgingly wish to apologize _ . It seems Thranduil can have a sharp tongue!" Thorin bemused as they both chuckled. Balin was passed the letter from Bard to skim over and snorted low with equal amusement.

"They only be askin' for what's theirs. Huh! Strange how they both conveniently ask for the same thing at the same time, ey?"

"And that  _ both  _ of their letters were delivered together. Not on separate days."

"Do you believe they're onto something?"

"Aye, but hardly anything insidious. I believe they simply divulge with one another in private. You know how Menfolk can be, they'll lay with sheep if desperate enough."

Again, the two had a laugh as they looked over the letters, mumbling low to themselves in thought before tossing the letters upon the nearby stand. Balin took his seat once more, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes to tip back and yawn.

"To what end do we see with all these requests that feel more like beggars?"

"Upon all fairness we did swear promises, Thorin. Why hesitate for so long?"

"I hesitate because I remember old tales father used to tell of Man and Elf becoming indulgent under want. Also because I wish to give upon our people first. Tis only fair that they can justly return to claim the luxuries they lost first, no?"

"That as it may, you also don't wish to draw ire among what few allies we have left. Winter is upon us, we have no crop and won't for months to come. What use would it be if our kin return to find us in the midst of yet another war, half starved and dying?"

Thorin heeded those words with great bearing and thought on them deeply as he turned to look upon the empty throne. Right above, carved from the stone itself sat the Arkenstone that glowed as if made from pure starlight. Even looking upon it caused Thorin's stomach to churn something violent as he quickly looked away. Every day was a struggle that he was conditioning himself to look upon the stone as a grim reminder, but as always he felt the pull that hooked into his mind like a cat upon a mouse. Every time he felt the urge and revulsion, the King would look away and every time Thorin found it harder to endure.

"Hail volunteers upon the horde, six at the least, ten at the most. Call upon a raven post haste."

\-----

"They say that during prosperous times in the First Age, Erebor was known as Dá Cau'barâkor-Arâu when Thráin the Old ruled. Unlike his brethren, he had a belief that knowledge was a far greater wealth than gold. He enacted laws that mandated all Dwarrow must learn to read and write Khûz  _ and  _ Westorn, some believe him to be quite the innovator which gained judgement from both kin and outsiders. Back then, Durinsfolk were known to be the wealthiest of the seven clans, which still harbors a great resentment and a fueled instigation during The Petty Wars sometime around the start of the Second Age."

"Bifur spoke of Petty Wars once, were they really that awful?"

"Honestly it's under speculation. Some say it wasn't as much as a war than a lot of outlandish bickering that wrought plenty of discourse between the clans and their Sire Fathers descendants. Others say it was the first and last civil war among our people."

"So it mainly affected the royal lot."

"Aye, but it also affected the economy in ways that led to enough problems for everyone, hence the name Petty Wars."

Bofur trailed behind Ori, both of them carrying lanterns carved of metal that held small, green flames fed by a wick dipped in oil. They moved through the aisle of shelves quietly, taking in the silence save for their own heartbeats and small exhales of breath. Ori had gotten deep into his lore studies, hellbent to claim the libraries of Erebor as his domain, and set out with the personal objective to clean, restore, and reorganize the piles of knocked over scrolls, books, and tomes that had been damaged from Smaug's incursion. It was supposed to be yet another day of dusting and polishing, Ori had  _ just  _ organized the North end near the entrance to where the great floors shined with that age old familiar designs of intricate craft that only Dwarf hands could carve. He had just rolled up one of the old rubs to be burned when Bofur arrived with his own rambling of curiosity and polite awe of the interior that stretched for well over two and a half acres wide and at least half of that long with tattered tapestries and rug covered floors stained with gods knew what. The library itself had quite the musty and old smell of parchment to it, but with great curtains being drawn back to provide some lighting in the front and to circulate fresh air, things were starting to be more tolerable. In all honesty, Ori was genuinely surprised to see Bofur greet him with smiles and a basket filled with bread, jam, and cheese to sate his forgotten hunger. He'd never taken his friend to be much of a reader, let alone a writer, so the inquiry about particular books rows brows and made him wipe sweat from his forehead. Yet upon casual talk over the history of Dwarven wit and Erebor's library, they found themselves wandering deeper within the archives where light wouldn't touch and lanterns were needed to guide their way. Ori occasionally stopped to look up at the books to study their spines, trying to read their titles before making a found noise of success.

"Aha! Here we are!  _ Dâu-Tókteth Brýnkrink!  _ Does this mean it's true then? I don't mean to pry, but I overheard you and Dwalin a few nights ago."

"It's fine, Ori. Only a matter of time 'fore you lot found out."

"Why keep it a secret though? Plenty o'folks vie for such a lovely thing."

Bofur took the book to look down at the leather worn cover to smirk sadly before huffing out a low sigh to think on the question.

"Ya know how ya got somethin that's kinda sacred to you and only you? Like..an old toy, somethin that ya really ain't keen on having folks know about 'cause you're afraid they'll treat you differently?"

"Similar to when Fili and Kili found out I still cuddle my stuffed toy then?"

"Close, but imagine instead of belligerent teasing, they covet your toy and objectify  _ you  _ as a prize greatly sought after at the same time."

Ori shrugged, not entirely understanding what Bofur was getting at, but doing his best to be respectful to their boundaries as he guided them both away from the dark. Occasionally, they stopped, Bofur asking for the more extended words that he had to sound out, scribbling notes on a parchment of paper. Ori seemed amused by it all, more so by the fact Bofur was trying his best to educate himself as they walked. They spoke lightly on the subject, Ori divulging on whatever Bofur asked when it came to the library, in turn Bofur only found it fair enough to sate Ori's curiosity upon his back, mainly explaining it was hardly a burden beyond the social conflicts that came with it. Yet something made Bofur pause as he held the lantern a little higher and turning a bit to walk backwards. He squinted for a few seconds, noticing movement in the distance that had him slowing his step for a moment to frown with concern. Part of Bofur wasnt sure if maybe the lighting and shadows were playing tricks with his sight, but he suddenly felt uneasy at seeing something darting above from one shelf to another that made him continuously look over his shoulder as they kept moving. Bofur gave Ori a wary side glance and Ori gave one right back that indicated he too noticed that something was deeply off. They could both smell it now; wet and soiled, the stink of raw meat and filth.

"Run!!" Bofur hissed as he pushed Ori forwards to make him run ahead. "Go!  **_Go!"_ **

An ear splitting shriek came with the twang of a bow, the crack of arrows cutting through the air and the loud thwap of impact that was mere inches from their heels. Now there was a wave of goblins; screams, cackles, and skittering of the horrid things scuttling and darting every which way to catch up. More screams and bellowing orders clashed with their own yells of panic and heavy panting that Bofur kept pushing Ori forwards to keep going no matter how hard their chests burned. Ori wasnt one to flee from a battle, but even he knew that going against a wave of goblins was a death sentence. He looked over his shoulder to see large white and yellow eyes, screeching maws riddled with sharp, needle-like teeth, snarling and beastly goblins crawling and clawing atop and along the shelves, many descending to the floor to run on all fours with ape-like agility. Every time Ori slowed, Bofur kept him going and pushed him forwards, yelling at him to not stop as they saw the familiar glowing light of them coming near the front of the library. Suddenly, Ori stumbled over his own two feet, screamed as he felt his body go off balance and fall forwards with ankle twisting odd, Bofur yelled and stopped to try and help him up, but Ori cried out in pain with his damaged ankle as they heard the rushing bellows of the goblins coming near. Another drawing of bows being taut back, their ears perked as they heard drawstrings pulled tight, snarling and screeching shrieks as goblins came near, the goblins on foot drawing an array of different weapons. The twang of bows was had. Arrows flew. Ori screamed as loud as he could, praying that someone-- _ anyone-- _ heard his cry for help.

Suddenly there was a flash of bright, blue light that came in tandem with loud crunching noise of stone being crumbled. Ori scooted back and mouth agape, his eyes were wide as he witnessed Bofur standing over him; his arms were up as if he were holding a scutum shield-- _ he was holding a shield!  _ A shield made of a thick stone slab that had been uprooted and curved to cover them both, easily deflecting the arrows from striking them. Bofur was equally wide eyed, sweat dripping from his forehead and brow as he held his stance strong while the goblins slowed and cursed with fury at their targets raising a defense and their companions on the ground threw spears at the stone shield cracked with blue glow.

" _ Bofur!!" _

_ " **Get gone!** Sound the alarm! I dunno how long I can hold'em off!" _

Ori managed to pull himself up off the ground, grabbing the side of the shelves for support as he stumbled to flee towards the light as a few upon the shelves chased after him. Bofur yelled and used all of the might he had within himself to swing the shield like a bludgeoning battering ram to have it violently slam into the side of the massive bookshelf. The entire platform shook so violently, scrolls and tomes fell from the shelves as the entire platform tipped and started a domino effect for the next rows following. Such a commotion of noise and chaos made the goblins scream and scramble, daring back into the shadows as their companions were forced to topple and fall onto the floor, necks snapping and limbs breaking when they made impact with the stone floor. The stone shield crumbled in its wake, leaving scorched and singed crumbles that made Bofur pant hard.

\-----

"Tis a wonder we even found the bloody thing," Dwalin said gruffly as he held open the silk stuffed box.

"Aye, damned luck I saw it before Dori stepped upon it " Nori said smugly.

"Damned luck I stopped you from trying to nick it!" Dori snipped curtly.

Balin smirked as he held up a great necklace wrought with pure gold that shined brighter than piles of gems and hills of gold that surrounded them. The braces necklace harbored stones as green as Springtime; five hundred emeralds embedded true, each one radiating a faint glow every time light from torches struck it. Balin was careful with tucking the necklace into the box, making sure it was secure before closing it shut and clipping a lock upon the hinge.

"The Necklace of Girion. Said to be crafted by Elf and Man alike, gifted to the King of Dale," Balin mused as he gave a pat at the box.

"Then why do we have it?" Nori asked as he walked along with the two brothers and his own by his side.

"Girion gave it to us as a gift, in turn we gave him a mail coat made of Schâulhaúlk which symbolized peace between us and the people of Dale. The gesture practically strengthened our alliance with them, we had rarely seen such kindness among Manfolk," Balin explained.

Balin went on about the peaceful alliances between the People of Dale and Erebor, how Girion's kind act had not only solidified their friendships, but had also strengthened both of their kingdoms tenfold where commerce and trade flourished in those years before Smaug sacked the lands. Yet they all stopped when they heard a familiar sound, the brassy, high pitched call of a horn echoing throughout the great chambers that was carried by other horns sounding an echo alarm. Already soldiers and guards were running towards the direction of the warning call of an invasion that caused shouts, yells, and hollering of command. The four of them moved fast, brows going low and serious, but confused on why an alarm of enemies was sounded  _ within  _ the city itself.

"What the devil be goin' on!?" Dwalin bellowed above as one guard fought through the march of his fellows storming by.

"There's--there's trouble! _The library!_ From the library!"

Nori and Dori looked at one another knowingly, fear upon their gaze, before darting off to follow the other soldiers in the direction of the chaos. Balin was quick to hail a nearby guard to warn Thorin, but he too followed Dwalin and the others, hellbent to investigate and by Mahal he prayed that it was a false alarm.

\-----

Bofur felt sore in a multitude of ways, but he was driven by adrenaline that made him look about with pupils dilated sharp to make sure all the remaining goblins were done for. Seven lay dead or dying and those that were coming to were dazed and confused, Bofur ran towards them with a shiv of stone being picked up and used to stab each one in the neck or upon the chest just in case. He knew all too well that if even one of these horrid things were kept alive then it was only a matter of time before others were upon them like a swarm of flies on shit. Bofur didn't hesitate or falter this time; being chased by Azog and his ilk-- _ coming face to face with a dragon.  _ **_Fighting in a war._ ** It had hardened Bofur like a forge to steel and a weapon-smith hammering a blade into shape. He felt an old, Dwarven wrath of strangers encroaching upon these great halls, an infestation that was infecting something sacred that he couldn't allow to go any further. One of the goblins was playing dead and tried to wrestle Bofur into submission, but Bofur lashed out, pinned the goblin with strong hands grabbing the goblin to slam back onto the ground. Claws scratched his face, blood was drawn as he cries out, but held strong as his fist rose to slam hard into the goblin's face, he could feel the crunch of fragile septum being crushed, he ignored the retching, sobbing howls of the goblin and grabbed the disgusting creature's face to crush before lifting and slamming its skull back down repeatedly against the hard floor. Splatters of black blood hit his face, hot and reeking of rot, but disregarded as Bofur crushed the skull of the goblin until the violent spasms became shaking twitches. Only when the body of the goblin lay still did Bofur stand and pant hard before running towards what lighting he could see. His body screamed in pain, as if every single nerve within had been struck by lightning all in one fell swoop. His vision was blurry and he blinked hard as limbs felt like great weights dragging him down. Bofur heard the horns from afar, Ori had made it to safety, had found the guard to raise the alarm of enemies from within. A wave of relief washed over him, he felt the smile pull upon his face that only made him move forwards, hellbent to get further into the light. All who had ever faced goblins knew that they wouldn't draw near sunlight, that they abhorred it to where it made their skin boil and eyes sting like snake venom.

Bofur could hear the heavy march of boots, others were coming, but his vision was blurring harder and he was seeing double to the point where he stumbled and wobbled with each step. Even though he felt a strange weight upon his shoulders that made him hunch somewhat, Bofur kept moving until he stood fully upon the light that came through the glass stained windows above. He squinted hard, looking up and around before his knees gave out from under him, causing him to fall to the floor and curse out loud at his forever apparently clumsiness that never left his side. It was to no avail, no matter how hard Bofur tried to stand, his body refused the demands and he was forced to settle upon all fours on the floor. His head turned towards the entrance in time to see blurry figures coming towards him, others shouting his name that made him smile more to try and wave weakly. Yet as his friends called out he heard them as if they were too far away. Someone was approaching and Bofur recognized them by smell alone; gold dust on forge smoke. Warm brandy and campfire. The mane of graying black hair met with blue eyes only came with the feel of being pressed against broad frame that kept the cold at bay. Half lidded and too weak to fight, Bofur looked upon Thorin who had turned him over, he was still smiling and even a weak chuckle came out as he wheezed.

"Well ain't you just a sight to behold," Bofur teased, wheezing another chuckle before his vision went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Dá Cau'barâkor-Arâu - Evergolden Archives  
> Dâu-Tókteth Brýnkrink - The Book of Gembacks  
> Schâulhaúlk - A special armor crafted from an ore similar to steel, but thricefold strong and forged from cold fire forges known as Schâullen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Dain's racist and uses some pretty harsh language.

Dain stood with a small contingent of his soldiers that were busy surveying the rubble and debris, Thorin by his side as they looked up and around. Low, distinct murmurs were had between the soldiers, even they wondered what could cause so much destruction from all this mess. Books and tomes strewn about, shelves that had laid standing even through Smaug's destruction now lay toppled over like toy blocks. Broken bits and pieces of stone lay scattered every which way and a portion of the looked like it had been torn up from the very ground itself. They were quiet as they examined what they could, scouts sent ahead through the dark aisles to look ahead as they held lanterns over the heads to study every detail they could accumulate.

"Sumat's not right here, Thorin."

"Aye, agreed."

"Never in all our days, not since yer ancestor from the First Age, have we had any problems with Orcs upon our doorstep, let alone  _ within. _ "

"Be it of luck that it befalls on my shoulders that such things happen."

"Don't blame yerself, cousin! This hardly be your fault! Shouldda 'spected it, though. Them gotdamned rot bloody, hog nosed cunts done did quite the surprise on us with them worms. No matter, we'd be findin' where they at!"

"We should have known better than to be at ease so soon."

"Aye, but that be a fault of war, Thorin. Never fully ends. Jus' be another brief pause of holding air on breath till more bullshit rolls about!" Dain scoffed and laughed loudly as he looked down at the mess surrounding them. "I'll be upfront though--"

"Are you not always?"

"Ye know me well! It's not the goblins that worry me, mate. The air be charged thick with the stink of the arcane like bat shit in an old mine. Few fires can scorch stone as this," Dain added as he examined a stone.

Thorin moved in closer to examine it as well and Dain was right, the stone was singed and burned so black to the point where it almost looked as if it had been turned to charcoal. It flaked and crumbled to the touch, leaving the edge unnaturally sharp and a crooked point that caused his thumb the bleed the moment it was pricked. Hardly a flinch or noise to be had at the sight of his own blood, Thorin disregarded the puncture wound and moved on to study the uprooted section of the floor to look upon the bare earth beneath that only went so deep before touching hard stone yet again. Thorin sighed deep, frustrated and confused by this whole ordeal, tense enough to where he had been clenching his jaw the entirety of the day that he wasn't entirely sure how to handle this predicament.

"I'll need to inform the others of this. They shouldn't be left ignorant of what transpired."

"Well I'm sure yer lovely lil harem Company would be more than happy tae assist us!"

Thorin didn't regard his cousin's snark, but it did earn a warning glare that was so swift that Dain took note and gesticulated a wordless apology by rolling his eyes and head bowing quickly with hand flicking at his own ear.

"I was giving more meaning upon the other Kings."

"Oh for Mahal's sake--"

"Divulging them in every detail isn't necessary, but informing them of orcs using burrowing worms to still create tunnels could be an issue upon their ends as well. Clearly, not all of Azog's allies have fled back to the mountains and they have..every right to be aware of such warnings."

"Keep the knife eared lot outta this, Thorin. Last thing we need is a buncha tree lovin, leaf munchin, beardless pricks tip toein' about in our home!"

It was then that a soldier approached, bowed in greeting out of respect before pointing in the direction within the dark to speak out on what they had found. A hole well over ten feet wide and twelve feet long had been discovered, which had given some confirmations of a possible worm had burrowed up from beneath. Yet more talk was had that it was not in fact a worm, but the workings of a natural sinkhole that had opened up at least twenty feet down into the catacombs and well beyond that tapped upon the underground springs that had fed into nearby rivers and eventually the great lake. Although the scouts dared not to enter upon the ancient catacombs, they saw what appeared to be a cavern dug out by dummy tools or by hand that led to obvious speculation that the goblins had dug their way up and possibly had intentions to lay claim to the catacombs for the time being to gain numbers before spreading. The fact they had found the sinkhole was a favorable turn of luck that led them to more promising breeding territories. Fools upon them that they became overconfident and had explored too much for their own good, a good thing at that given that they would have possibly gone undetected for quite some time which would have garnered opportunity to expand their numbers and even overwhelm the Dwarves from within their very domain.

Dain and his guard were rather hellbent to follow the goblin tunnels that cut through the sewage systems, but Thorin wouldn't have him or their kin explore too deeply for Dwarves, as nimble and agile as they could be, weren't the keenest of swimmers and Thorin wasn't fond of the idea of possible drownings, or worse; a cave in that would cause the entirety to crumble from above and below. For now, he gave orders for the particular mausoleum where the sinkhole and goblin-carved tunnels connected to be cleared out which drew much concern and questioned rebuttal of their ancestors that would surely incite haunts for disturbing their rest, but what else could they do? Thorin was equally dismayed by the whole ordeal, but the safety of the living was his first priority, so the coffins were relocated to a vacant mausoleum and Thorin gave strict orders to the soldiers that they handle the dead with upmost care and he encouraged with Dain that they would seek out the descendants to apologize, if anything to offer tribute in forgiveness for such disrupt.

As for the sinkhole, Dwarves had means to bury any and all traces of such mishaps. Mahal's Candy was their best option and their secure solution to plug up both holes in a matter of the next hour. A ground up mixture of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal made a fine, black powder that was commonly used by Dwarves during wartime confrontations and one of the many guarded secrets of their creation that they had discovered to be useful in more common ways. More so to improve their capabilities of mining especially, yet this black powdered concoction was mixed with a sticky gum resin that was often produced from the sap of maple trees to not only retain its mixture, but to also make it easier to transport given that the gum resin was attainable and able to be stowed away properly. Thorin watched as the soldiers dug out holes within the sinkhole to wedge gummy chunks of the Candy within the cracks, ensuring that the powdered components mixed in the process before climbing back up.

"I'll leave the rest to you then?"

"Aye! They'll be done soon enough. Ye owe me a keg for the Candy by the way," Dain said as he smacked Thorin's back to bid him farewell. King Thorin took his leave and went about taking up his duties as monarch to call upon a meeting with his Company and of the other rulers of the land to discuss the ongoing situation. 

\-----

Within the great war room, Bard and Thranduil were instructed to keep put and for a good while they waited with their two appointed advisors and keepers who stood close to one another, quietly debating and discussing what was to be had. Thorin arrived with Balin and his nephews in tow hauling what appeared to be two great chests while Balin carried two lesser boxes that harbored small locks upon them. Thorin didn't go into graphic detail of what had transpired within Erebor's library that day, what he did say for both kings to hear was both dire and rewarding at the same time for all three opposing sides. Thorin openly encouraged that they take closer looks upon undercrofts, tombs, or any other underground construction within their holds, he allowed them to believe that it was their scouts that had come upon the goblins  _ first _ when exploring the northwest gates that led upon their crypts and catacombs. Only then did they discover goblins digging a tunnel and per protocol the goblins were not only slaughtered, but the gates closed until further notice with what starting caverns that had been dug were now sealed. In turn, King Thorin agreed to their requests by returning what was rightfully their's, which came with a chest each laden with enough gold to compensate for the ill tact upon previous meetings. Thranduil left promptly, bidding his own farewell with a curt bow, yet Bard lingered, quiet at first and waiting for Thranduil to be out of earshot before he looked upon King Thorin.

"I am curious, the one you call Bofur," Bard said carefully as he beckoned his advisors and guard to take the offerings back to the carriage.

"What of him?" Thorin asked curiously.

"I wish to bid his audience if he would have it?"

"What for?" Balin asked.

"If it wasn't for his polite social suggestion upon our leaving, we may still be bickering, Thorin. I wish to thank him as well as request his company. I wish to be hospitable," Bard explained politely as he gave an upnod at the guard.

Such information made all their brows raise, Balin was quick to mumble something under his breath in Khûz at Thorin, as did Fili and Kili who seemed equally wondering about what Bofur had said or done to entice the King of Dale's attention. All of them looked as if they had heard something that didn't seem entirely accurate or they weren't sure they heard correctly. Fili and Kili snorted hard which only made Thorin shoot a side glance in warning for them to straighten out less they get boxed in the ears. Bard looked back, equally confused before looking upon Thorin. Clearly there had been yet another social road block.  


"You wish to be... _ hospitable? _ " Balin wondered, cautious and suspicious in an instant.

"My daughters are hellbent to see him again. You two as well," he said while nodding at Fili and Kili. "They want to thank you three and Tauriel for saving them, as should I for that matter. If it had not been for their quick thinking and tact, they wouldn't be alive to see Dale during its return."

"I think he means hospitable as in _gratitude,"_ Fili mumbled low enough as they all grunted in agreement.

"But why Bof--" Thorin stopped himself, instantly connecting the dots to exactly why Bard was grateful.

That remark made them all raise their brows in surprise though, keen for Bard to explain, yet the man seem somewhat hesitant when he noticed their ignorance on the subject. Was he not supposed to speak on this? Had Bofur not told them beforehand? It was only then did Bard realize that Bofur had done a twist on things by leaving  _ both  _ sides ignorant and for just reason; Thorin's expression went from a mute tiredness to something quite dark that alarm bells were going off that he may have just gotten Bofur in trouble.

"I don't believe that would be an issue, but Bofur isn't well. He's been under the weather these past few days and hasn't been keen on having company at the moment," Balin said carefully, still sizing Bard up as if the man had just said something too offensive for his own good.

"That's a pity! Send him my regards and to expect letters to arrive soon," Bard said as he bowed respectfully before taking his leave. 

Thorin watched Bard go, being quiet as he juggled everything that had transpired in a single day that had made him think back with frustration and almost denial. No way would Bofur even  _ think  _ of assisting outsiders to parlay deals? Against his own King? Against his fellow Dwarves?  _ Against him? _

"He spoke the truth," Fili mumbled low as Kili gave a nod in agreement and looked upon their uncle with worry.

"Bofur was rather impressive that night. I'd have been dead if he'd not found that plant," Kili pointed out as if he was trying to passively cover for Bofur's imminent punishment.   


Thorin turned to look upon his nephews as he seemed equally intrigued by the twist and turns of new information, but opted to converse something with Balin that seemed rather important before looking upon his nephews and encouraging them to spread the word among the others of his state as well as the affairs of diplomacy.

\-----

Within Erebor's many halls and twisting corridors that led to various districts and avenues, if one were to find themselves wandering to marvel at the architect, they would eventually find themselves discovering many major factors that drew both awe and curiosity in a multitude of ways. Erebor itself had been constructed upon a circular spiral of sorts, much like a topiary maze within the gardens of an estate, there were many odd turns and great walls, lifts and stairs that made one able to ascend higher as they went and even great bridges that allowed one to cross over rivers of steam and water or deep trenches of flowing magma pulled up from deep within the ground of Middle Earth. It was also known that Erebor was split into five districts, each one pertaining to its duties and objectives to make the entirety of Erebor a stable and functioning city. Each district was separated by great halls that interconnected with one another and were so wide that even two contingents could pass through with just rubbing elbows upon one another. At its epicenter was the inner sanctum where housing, homes, and even the grand palace sat in all its regal splendor of thick malachite wrought with veins of vibrant gold. It was within the epicenter where  _ all  _ of Thorin's people would live until their population rose back to normal, for now though, only one of the districts was active beyond the epicenter that drew a quiet fascination, but frustration upon the Dwarves within. The other districts had been severely damaged by Smaug's onslaught of destruction, yet Da' Fêlekag-Hûrkul had held strong given that it harbored the great hoarded treasures accumulated over the centuries as well as their libraries, forges of craftsmanship, and their great healing halls that would eventually provide a manner of alchemical, herbal, and apothecaries for the sick and wounded. Though for now, it felt more like a temporary barracks for those who were still recovering from the war with broken limbs or something far more severe.

Bofur had stayed there for well over three days, if not a whole week, and hadn't awoken until the fourth day with a full bladder and an empty belly. He still felt tired and weak in some areas, his shoulders ached something awful, but if anything Bofur was fairly keen to take his leave as soon as he was able to. He wasn't keen on healers, herbalists, or anyone that was obsessive with poking and prodding other people. He wasn't sure if he was given a full examination, by the way the healer looked upon him there was more curiosities of his back than anything else. Yet eventually, Bofur insisted on taking his leave for he couldn't rest; he missed his own bed, his brother's cooking, and familiar faces which motivated him to slip out mid evening when the healers were busy serving meals and snickered when he stole one of their robes to take his leave. Bofur wandered somewhat, working to gain strength in his legs once more as he admired how Dain's soldiers managed to repair and work so swiftly on the reconstruction of the buildings, many others were hauling rotting wood and piles of debris onto carts to haul for disposal. He turned to watch other soldiers using a makeshift pulley to haul a great head of a statue that had been blocking the path for carts. Bofur moved on, stealing some bread and cheese from a nearby table and darting off before he was seen. He snorted at his own bout of thievery, amused that he hadn't been seen and was quick to turn a corner to head home, but promptly ran right into someone that made him curse out loud before staring up at the stranger to apologize.

" _Thorin!_ "

"What are you doing here?"

"I--well could be askin' the same!"

"I was coming to see you."

Bofur sized Thorin up, doubtful of such an admission, bit giving an upnod to snort out a chuckle and give a broad grin. "I's took leave from the healin' halls, was hungry for actual food and I ain't keen on being stowed away for so long."

"Ah, that's quite fair, but I intend to join you either way."

"But I didn't--"

"Is that rye? How lovely, please lead the way," Thorin interrupted with his tone sounding frank and his hand reaching out to pat Bofur on the shoulder far too hard.  


Bofur winced at the physical contact and relented to taking the lead back home with Thorin in tow. He shared something of a small manor with his kin; a wide hone made of stone and wood that was greatly similar to Bifur's home back in Luin that overlooked the marketplace. From the looks of things, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur had actively attempted to make something of a home of the place, taking what they could from other long since abandoned homes as well as a few things that had been lost, but now found. Bofur went about with accumulating a few logs into the fireplace with all intentions to strike it with flint and stone to warm the interior, he called out to his kin, but no response returned only confirmed that it was just him and Thorin for the time being. Thorin stood and leaned against the wall, busying his hands with his pipe to observe Bofur slicing the loaf of bread and placing slices of cheese atop to have it settle on the ashen hearth once he had gotten the fire going.

"It's come to my attention that you've--" Thorin paused as he watched Bofur undressing; overcoat being hung on a nearby hook along with hat and scarf before shirt and underclothes were pulled down, tied around his waist to have bare torso and arms exposed. Thorin took note of strong, wry limbs coupled with strong shoulders, tanned skin kissed by sunlight from years of travel gave way to the lining of lighter tones where the sun was unable to touch. Bare chest harbored the hirsuit of dark brown hair that curled every which way, thickening up top only to thin into a small trail before thinking again under belly button. Scars dotted along pectorals which drew more attention to where Thorin had lost his train of thought as he studied the off pink skin of scarring that looked and surely felt like soft leathers. Bofur caught him staring and watched him for a few seconds before looking down at the scars to clear his throat.

"It was from a battle incident. Bandits tryin' to raid our caravan when Bifur and I were on the road sellin' wares. Particular bloody fellow had the gall tae slice me from left to right," Bofur said carefully as he looked back at the bread becoming a cheesy toast. He heard Thorin draw near, crouched down to be at eye level and flinched when he realized how close the King actually was.

"Did you succeed?"

"If ya mean did we scare them off, then yes. Spent a few weeks in bed all achy, but suppose it comes with the territory of traveling. What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Thorin gave an upnod and inhaled to think before finally lowering his guard to speak in a tone that wouldn't leave Bofur feeling insecure or anxious. "I was informed by Bard this afternoon that you assisted he and Thranduil with diplomacy. Is this true?"

"Aye..it be true."

" _ Why?" _

Bofur went quiet, took the slices of bread away from the hearth to hand one over as he sat back to sit upon the stone floor in thought.

"Because I don't like to see other folks suffer, Thorin. Be it Man or Elf, I don't enjoy watching people endure hardships that can be easily avoided. You and Thranduil were at each other's throats constantly and Bard, as insightful as he is, has yet to find his voice as a leader given that his own people went against him in certain instances. While you three were havin' at it, yer people are struggling and winter was upon us-- _ is upon us! _ I knew you and the other's weren't gonna listen to me--"

"That's hardly true."

"You said it yer'self that they were asking for far too much. Thranduil wanting compensation for the damages to his dungeons and us breaking out. Grievances to Bard and his people for Laketown when Smaug destroyed it. I agreed to some extent; we Dwarves shouldn't have to fix  _ everything _ , bit we made a mess, Thorin. Tis be our responsibility to at least clean up the mess we made. So I told Thranduil and Bard what they needed to do to sway social favor. Thranduil would of course get me meaning faster who would in turn discuss it with Bard."

It was the fact Bofur sounded  _ proud  _ of what he had done that angered Thorin the most out of this whole conversation.

"You went behind your King and Company's back."

"I alleviated a situation that was to become dire. All three of ya were too proud and stubborn tae see--"

"That is not the point, Bofur! You went against the order of our social rank!  _ Above the crown  _ to enable your own agenda!  _ You can not do that! _ "

"My " _ agenda"  _ was for the betterment of our people!  _ For you!  _ Can ya really sit there and say that ya don't feel a  _ little  _ relieved right now that those two aren't smothering ya!?"

"Why did you not simply approach and request an audience with me to discuss--"

" _ I did! I bloody fuckin did!  _ **_Three times_ ** _ I requested an audience and each time I was waved off or disregarded! _ Twas no surprise upon me end since Durinsfolk don't listen tae anyone else, but their own!"

Bofur gave Thorin a judgmental look after his angry tirade and in turn Thorin looked pensive with shame which was more than enough of an admission. Bofur was right; his voice wasn't heard less he was singing or telling an epic tale, let alone it only brought forth a familiar guilt that he had disregarded one of his own yet again. Both of them were quiet now, the tension so thick between the two drove Bofur to finally eat and eat far too fast to where he coughed and rubbed crumbs off his beard before finally speaking up.

"If you're gonna go about punishing me, then do it, Thorin, but it ain't gonna make me change my opinion on the whole ordeal."

" _ Why  _ are you so obstinate, Bofur?" Thorin asked while exhaling a low breath to let go of his anger. "It seems at certain you defy me and bludgeon your own path. You speak out of turn--"

"I speak out of turn because more than half the time nobody else bothers to speak up."

"Because they adhere to social constructs!"

" _Because they're submissive!_ Me and my own never bowed fealty to you, Thorin! We follow orders because we respect and value ya as a leader, but at the end of the day we are our own! If you want me to bend knee then  _ you ask it of me as an equal _ ."

"Then I am  _ asking you  _ to bend knee and  _ for once  _ be complicit!"

"No."

Thorin looked as if he were about to strike Bofur, fists clenched tight, nails digging into palms and shoulder twitching, yet Bofur made a low grunt of a noise before glancing up at Thorin.

"I can't--I-I mean I literally can't. Leg's gone numb a bit and to be fair, m'quite tired!"

A pause to be had, suddenly both were snorting and busting out laughing at the turn of events, realizing that they were both quite stubborn in their own ways. They spoke further on after Thorin helped him off the floor and onto a nearby seat and in turn Bofur was finally able to speak his commentary upon the sociopolitical ordeal that had passed or were soon to come. Bofur was  _ funny  _ in a way that had Thorin snorting hard to contain his mirth or laughing with hands rubbing temples or eyes to ease the tension from his jaw and brow. By his own methods, Bofur was surprisingly insightful to where none of them had truly took note of. They way he could point out details and subtle gesticulations even among the Elves was a curious insight that Thorin was genuinely impressed with. Yet over time as the sun waned and subjects changed, Thorin was in need to take his leave, especially with the familiar ringing of bells indicating that supper was nigh. Bofur walked him to the door, both of them still bemusing over ridiculous gossip that had been floating about, Bofur was rather keen to stall though and Thorin didn't mind a single bit as they spoke a little more only to wait and watch for either Bifur or Bombur to make themselves known.

"It's good to see you smile again, Thorin," Bofur mused gently with voice going low.

He was surprised to hear that, but Thorin made no attempts to react, only to look upon Bofur who was grinning something impish as he leaned against the threshold of the doorway. Thorin kept quiet, cheeks going a little bit with color as he gave a polite nod in thanks before bidding Bofur farewell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Hospitality - Dwarven term often meaning to "call upon" another to share in private comforts. AKA; Politely asking for sex.  
> Da' Fêlekag-Hûrkul - The Halls of Craft


	6. Chapter 6

In the following weeks, Bofur was thoroughly questioned about the events that had transpired within the library, he gave his account on the ordeals of the goblins, citing he had _no idea_ how goblins had successfully managed to infiltrate the area which was taken as fact since no right minded Dwarf would be in cahoots with such ilk. As for the means of thwarting the goblins, Bofur was practically interrogated by Dain for days on the minute details on who, what, and how simply to make sure he kept his story straight and hadn't glazed over any missing details. Ori wasn't given any lighter treatment from Dain, he too was faced with Dain's ever persistent drive of investigations, but Ori stood equally firm with his own story; he blatantly omitted the details of Bofur using Magicks of the arcane, citing that he had dropped his lantern which may have been the result of part of the floor being scorched by flames, but it did little to explained the _literal uprooting of stone_ that had been scattered about. Such suspicions were somewhat justified; Dwarves were _very_ peculiar about magic of any form and although there were mages that practiced among their race, the study of the arcane was not only rather feared, but also monitored so strictly that only field studies of healing and enchantment were permitted. Nevertheless it was a grueling month of meetings and further prying from Dain that left the both of them so tense and on edge that their kin finally complained on the matter, more so of Dori who gave Dain a very straightforward threat that if he pressed on with his ridiculous detective work then he would gladly give him a new mystery to solve a case revolving around his boot up the Dwarf's ass.

Yet beyond Dain being ridiculous, all of them were excited for the arrival of their kin. The first of those that had left Ered Luín within the Blue Mountains had arrived in Dale two days prior and were now seen from afar by crows and ravens who sounded the delighted alarm of brethren returning home. All stood upon the great wall and towers bellowing horns or whooping with joy at seeing the thick, curved outline of wagons, carts, ponies, and groups of Dwarrow that marched like a parade with music of all sorts singing in tandem with one another over the feelings of joy and relief at being finally able to return home. Yet the music finally grew in unison of war drums and horns that made them all stomp their boots and join in the song that was truly a[ Dwarven Anthem](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xm96Cqu4Ils) sung with proud proclamation throughout their holds.

It was a momentous occasion that the first to arrive were the Company's family members who were either tackled or tackled into their loved ones yelling and embracing them so tight. Thorin descended the great walls, greeting them at the gates which came with awkward bows and nervous kneeling, which he insisted that formalities be disregarded for once. Fili and Kili hugged their mother, muffled yells as Dis embraced them, sobbing loudly over her boys, cupping their cheeks and kissing their brows to leave sticky makeup smeared over their faces. Thorin was given the same treatment, smothered by his sister more along the lines of being boxed in the arm of having his ears pulled which made everyone cackle and jeer with laughter. Everyone seemed to have their kin among them; brothers and sisters meeting once more, spouses and lovers embracing before sharing kisses upon the temple before bumping foreheads together. Yet Bofur stood back to enjoy the view of seeing his friends and family looking so happy. Bifur had already been keen on a Dam for quite some time and she had finally recuperated his advances with letters traded back and forth, it was amusing to see Bifur fumble about as they both blushed and spoke, holding hands as they pulled away from the throng to hear one another better. Bombur and his two wives kissed his cheeks while their children screeched, demanding to be picked up or climbing upon their father who chuckled and called them each out by name. Bofur chuckled as many did a double take at the surprise that Bombur had not only managed to achieve with successfully obtaining two gorgeous Dams, but had an abundance of offspring with the oldest two just turning thirty. Even now they could see his seventh child; a newborn hugged close to their mother's bosom, which made them all draw near to coo in awe at the infant who had fiery red hair and Bombur's mustache. Babies were a rarity for Dwarves given that bearing offspring was arduous and rare, so to see a newborn was truly something of a sign and a blessing for the people of Erebor who saw it as promising for their future.

"You ain't gonna join'em?" Nori asked as he stood beside Bofur trying to light his pipe with a match.

"Nah, too many folks. I'll get tackled by m'nieces and nephews later. Why ain't you with'em?"

"No lovers. No kids. Cannae ask you a personal question?"

"Aye, depends?"

"What's with you and the King?"

Bofur tensed and his jaw clenched somewhat at the question, he gave Nori a dismissive shrug and looked upon him as if he didnt understand the question.

"I only ask cause it be my job. Much like yours, though I stick more to the shadows. Still, m'only asking _now_ cause in a few days Thorin's gonna be dealin' with a lotta cheek from his advisors. Questions are gonna be asked, they're gonna wanna know his patterns and routine."

"You suspect subterfuge?" Bofur asked, tone quickly changing from casual to serious as he kept his voice down.

"I suspect a whole lotta nobs are gonna be tryin to fight their way at the top of the social food chain. Which means they're gonna fuck us over eventually. Whatever good company we have with Thorin might wane, or worse.."

"He wouldn't--Thorin isn't about to let a bunch of nobs take our roles, Nori."

"Aye no, but they'll still try. Especially with you and yer kin since ya ain't blood. So..why's he visitin' yours so much?"

Bofur went still for a moment to watch Thorin talk with Dis who was still holding her sons in a headlock, Dain joined them, bellowing loudly as he always did and embracing his cousins to share in a hug.

_*****_

_"We should do this more often."_

_"Oh really, why's that?"_

_"I like your company. You put me at ease somehow and I'm hellbent to hear how this story ends."_

_"Hmn..tis a good story."_

_"Indeed!"_

_Bofur and Thorin sat by the fire upon the lounge sofa, gladly slouched and sprawled out with tankards in hand and faces red from drinking a little too much for their own good, a nearly empty platter of food sat upon the low table as Bofur took a moment before starting the story again. Yet Thorin made him stop as he sat up to study his features for a moment._

_"_ **_Can_ ** _we do this more often?"_

_"Aye, if you want to?"_

_"I'm fond of you--of our friendship," Thorin admitted._

_"Of which?" Bofur asked as he sat up as well to face Thorin._

_Their knees bumped against one another as Thorin held his breath, unsure if he should answer that question just yet, though Bofur didnt seem to wait with anticipation as he tipped his tankard back to drink down the last dregs of mead._

_"I must admit--" Bofur belched and wiped his mustache dry with the back of his hand. "I-I'm..fond of ye, though that could be the mead talkin, but m'just happy yer finally payin attention to me again!" He said with a sad chuckle._

_"Again?"_

_Bofur shrugged dismissively, refusing to explain as he felt Thorin drew near--far too close for comfort that made him tense as he felt a hand rest on his lap._

_"If you're so fond, prove it?" Thorin requested as he watched Bofur fidget._

_Bofur looked at Thorin's eyes, looked at his smug smirk, he licked his own lower lip and mouth watered at the mere thought of pressing his mouth against Thorin's. The temptation was there, they both felt it, could practically taste each other's breath that made Bofur leans a little and chuckles at Thorin tempting him in such a way._

_\-----_

_He tastes sweet, the honey sugar mead and spiced aftertaste still lingers on his tongue only watered down by aftertaste of slices of salted and dried beef. Strong hands grab a fistful of hair, fingers entangled and tugging to tip chin up, he sucks upon his tongue while a deep, groan leaves him wanting. Bofur gladly let Thorin take the lead who seemed to take such willingness as an invitation to prolong the kiss with the blunt of teeth raking along his lower lip._ _Four days since Thorin had challenged him to prove his affections and in turn Bofur had succeeded in charming the King to kiss him back. It was awkward at first, goofy snorts an odd chuckles that led to a second kiss. Then a third. Thorin had returned the next night and the following nights afterward and it went the same as followed; him daring Bofur, the two of them kissing on the loveseat or upon the covers before the fireplace. It was supposed to be a mere joke, teasing of nostalgic boyhood bantering that became more intimate the more they challenged one another. Delightful in ways that neither one of them had been prepared for, but they didn't bother to question it. Why would they? It felt good and brought them both a strange comfort. Even now with the both of them raking fingers through hair and murmuring small talk of reassurance while giving each other playful headbutts. Small pecks and chuckles followed with yet another intimate kiss that leaves them both hungry and needy yet again. Thorin tucked his hand under Bofur's tunic, rubbing up along his side then upon his chest, fingertips grazing a nipple and the warmth of scarring that caused Bofur to twitch and flinch. Thorin pulled his hand down quickly, giving Bofur an apologetic look that only followed with Bofur leaning in to fish for yet another kiss._

_"Bofur I'm--"  
"Ach, hush! I'm not used tae bein touched there is all."  
"I should have asked--"  
"Don't worry on it! S'fine, it..it felt nice when ya did it."  
_

_Thorin grinned at the compliment, Bofur returned the grin with his own and his smile caused Thorin's chest to tighten with fierce reminders yet again. He knew that smile, knew those eyes, that touch. It was all so glaringly familiar and burning harshly at the back of his mind that he blatantly mistook it for arousal as hips pushed up a little against Bofur's hip and thighs. He was rewarded with calloused grip squeezing his hip and Bofur rising a little more to grind right back which made him hitch a sharp breath to hold back a throaty groan._

_"Oh, should I do that again?" Bofur asked, impish grin and brows raising in cheeky realization at Thorin's reaction._

_"I'd say no, but I enjoyed it too much," Thorin teased with cheeks red._

_Both of them laughed again, embarrassed yet easily amused by their own bodily reactions that were getting the best of them. Yet Thorin pulled Bofur into another needy kiss, tasting pipe weed and sweet cider upon tongue as they allowed themselves to gladly drown in such fleeting pleasure if for only but a moment_ _to relish in each other's company._

_*****_

"He likes my company, Nori. So he says, of course. We talk mostly, think he jus' wants someone to talk with sometimes?"

"Ah, nothing wrong with havin'a chat. You sure there ain't anything more?" Nori asked as he studied Bofur who appeared to be quite dismissive on their conversation. Bofur crossed his arms over his chest, jaw clenching and back straight as he rebuffed the question with a hard shrug.

"The fuck you wanna know, mate? He comes over, we chat, he bitches about his day, and we have a few tankards from Bifur's cider before he takes his leave!"

Nori didnt seem too phased by Bofur's outburst, blowing smoke from his mouth as the tip of his pipe glowed bright. He gave a nudge at Bofurs side to hopefully to ease his tension.

"Just be careful, alright? Guard yerself from the nobfolk that are gonna be herdin' in. Ya know how they get with our lot," Nori warned as he took his leave.

Bofur watched Nori walk off and was about to retreat himself, frustrated that he was being questioned so much over the past few weeks. _First Dain now Nori? I'd like to have at least_ **_one_ ** _day where folks could just leave a Dwarf be in peace! The hell did Nori mean anyways? Nobody be in their right mind to get between Thorin and those he cares for. Maybe I should talk with the others--_

Suddenly found his presence being invaded yet again which caused him to look back in time only to have a bundle of cloth shoved into his arms that came with him looking up at his brother who beamed back.

"Congratulations, brother! An uncle again!"

" _Again?_ Bombur yer to set a record!"

"Oh aye, but she's the only Dam of the whole lot!"

Bofur was astonished as he cradled the infant who kicked strong legs and looked upon him with those big blue eyes and red hair that seemed to fade into little peach fuzz along the sideburns before thickening again just above the upper lip. Bofur stood perfectly still as the baby reached up to grab at his mustache to give a few playful tugs which caused the brothers to chuckle.

"What's her name?"

"Hílde named her Bree. They passed through the Shire and into Bree where she apparently gave birth at."

"Goodness! A roadie already and you've not even walked! That's the ol'Broadbeam in ye!" Bofur cooed playfully as the baby giggled and kicked harder. "Ye think they ran into Bilbo?"

"Doubt it, Maglin mentioned that they did most of their travelin' at night. Bloody hell, Bofur you've got her gigglin and smiling in no time! She ain't grinned like that save for her mum!"

The squealing laughter made ears perk and heads turn to see Bofur and his niece bonding, it was a cute sight to see a little hand grab at his nose that made them all chuckle at seeing Bofur with his kin. Bifur drew near to pat Bofur on the shoulder while wiggling his finger at baby Bree that made the baby giggle and try to grab at it. Bifur mused something at Bofur which instantly caused the Dwarf's demeanor to quickly change from joy to deadpan, then instantly to a strained glare that made Bofur quickly pass his niece back quickly to Bombur before gesticulating a bit of sign language at Bifur before suddenly taking his leave.

Thorin noticed the shift in attitude, recognized the tension, even if his own eyesight was poor Thorin could see Bofur storming off and his brother frowning at Bifur who seemed to be dismissive of the whole tradeoff. Thorin pulled away from his friends and family as well, doing his best not to be entirely detected as he followed after Bofur. Yet keen eyes caused Dis to turn just in time to see Thorin trying to slip away. Dis could have spoken up, could have barked and pulled him back to join them in the talks of a celebration feast, but instead she watched Thorin with quiet scrutiny as he followed right after Bofur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Nobs/Nobfolk - Slang term often used by common ranked Dwarves for Nobles or those of higher social/class status.


	7. Chapter 7

After Bofur had successfully managed to sneak away supposedly undetected, he resided within the home of his kin and argued with himself for a moment. His frustrations with Bifur's ever persistent heckling over his lack of settling down, to work, to Dain and Nori hounding him with questions had left him in a very distraught state. Bofur wasn't one to be all too angry, he had the demeanor of a young goat that happily bucked and kicked about, content to do as they pleased, but his patience was thin. His mind was wrought with the anxiety that soon this home that he shared with his brother and cousin was about to become _extremely_ packed. Four pebbles, two young Dwar, _and_ a newborn? The thought alone made his arm hair stand on end and his chest hair puff under his tunic as he grumbled under his breath. He needed to find a different place to settle within Erebor, a genuine home to call his own that he could reside and design with his own ideals. It was weird even thinking on it, Bofur had been by Bombur's side their whole lives be it defending him from bullies when they were younger to protecting him from their own kin who were just plain awful at times. And Bifur was much as their cousin as he was their surrogate parent. They had all lived and worked together one way or another, so the mere thought of going down his own path--was this it? Was this what Bifur meant when he heckled him for being a bit behind? _A little "upside down" at times and "more off" than most, but you've got such a big heart and you're as sweet as stone candy!_ Those words still lingered at times when Bofur was alone, he never understood what Bifur was going on about and it only made him question exactly what Bifur meant. Still, his decision was final; Bofur didn't want to be around to play the role of babysitter yet again, nor did he want to endure so much commotion of two Dams bickering at Bombur for his flirtatious antics yet again.

Bofur exhaled a low sigh and started up with collecting his belongings by shoving baubles and trinkets into chests and wooden crates. Suddenly, the creak of the door came with the scuffle of boots made Bofur whip around fast, arm flung something heavy and sharp that cut through the air only to have a loud thunk be heard of a hand axe being thrown and the blade burrowing deep onto the stone of the threshold. Thorin looked with wide eyes as Bofur guffawed loudly, quick to apologize deeply for his impulsive and rash actions that only came with the King scoffing loudly to disregard as he jerked the hand axe free to throw it back which only made Bofur grab it in mid throw that made him bark with laughter again.

"Why aren't you with everyone else? Someone's gonna notice you gone, ya know," Bofur said as he tucked the hand axe back within his coat.

"Same goes to you, what did Bifur say now to upset you?"

"The usual! Bickering that he wants me to be more like Bombur and whatnot."

"Do you not like kids?"

"Oh I adore kids! More than anything I'd like to settle and have a few, but I've yet to find anyone proper to be with."

"Still waiting on The Best then."

"Somethin' like that, yeah. Maybe I should hail Dwalin just to shut'em up!" Bofur joked as he turned back around to finish packing.

For some reason, such a remark had Thorin feel uneasy as he felt a churning in his gut that made him clear his throat. He moved in and helped Bofur haul the full chest off the sofa and onto the floor which followed with them both setting on the sofa to huff out a worn out breath.

"You're moving then?"

"Aye, know any spots that ain't claimed?"

"Aye there's many homes that are vacant that you could inspect, but I wanted to ask something of you, Bofur."

Bofur didnt look up front trying to pick lint and loose string from his front as Thorin watched his hands work as if almost drawn in by the way they moved. Rough knuckles and thick calluses along fingertips worn smooth from years of mining and wood carving, all he could ponder on was the thought of those warm hands rubbing along the outline of his waist, feeling thumbs press along the lining trap of where thigh met upon groin. Feeling lips purse and press along the trailing of thick hair that was going gray. His cock twitched with attention and Thorin cleared his throat to lean with elbows resting on knees as he looked towards the fireplace.

"Have you ever had..hospitable friends?"

Bofur blinked with surprise and arched a brow. "I--no. I've not. Heard of it though. For a good while folks thought Nori and I were hospitable friends, but that was just gossip. Why you ask?"

"I was wondering if you would like to be..my hospitable friend?"

"May I ask what brought this on?"

"Well, we've kissed and I'm--our statuses don't make things easy. We're both Dwar with needs and urges just as anyone does. We both enjoy each other's company too. T'would be mutually beneficial if we were hospitable," Thorin trailed off.

"Ah. I see. That's..quite the request! I never thought you'd--I mean yer the _King of Erebor._ Why'd you want hospitable friends when you could just court whomever caught yer eye?"

"I feel too old to be courting about, I prefer being a bachelor because of the liberties it provides. I can pick and choose my comforts, nobody questions it."

"What of the crown? Yer lineage?"

"Fili or Kili will claim it when the time comes. I'd have thought you'd jump the goat over this. Have I fallen out of your favor?"

"Nah it ain't that at all! It's just _...sudden_. Very sudden! We've spent about a month knowin each other--"

"We've known one another longer than that."

"Through vague bouts of social events! Ye don't find it the least bit odd that yer suddenly out of the blue wantin to--"

"Tôlka fôlholk?"

Bofur flushed bright red and stood quickly to gesture a few rude hand waves at Thorin which only made the King grin with amusement at his friend getting so flustered. They both stood now, Bofur looking deeply overwhelmed was met with Thorin drawing near to look him over, worry lines now forming over his brow as he reached out to rest a hand on Bofurs shoulder and give a beckoning nudge to get his attention. A brush of knuckles along the jaw and head tipping down to look over the hand thoughtfully before Bofur exhaled a low sigh.

"Im goin through a lot, Thorin and there's a _lot_ ya still don't know which I dunno really how to explain?"

"So you wish to be cautious?"

"Aye, for a little while. Again this is _very_ unexpected! Surprised that you're so forward with this," he said with a low, nervous chuckle.

"Take all the time you need to contemplate this. The last thing I'd want you to feel is pressured," Thorin reassured as he encouraged Bofur to return to his packing and took his leave to seek out his kin once more.

\---One Month Later---

Winter struck the lands far and wide in a blanket of snow and ice that all had been expecting, but were hardly prepared for. The roads were completely covered by the onslaught of a blizzard, the entirety of the lands struck by early sunsets and late sunrises drove all into a deep melancholy that couldn't be avoided no matter how hard one tried. Although the weather hadn't been particularly arduous just yet, given with how the turn of events were going, many were tense and worried that the second caravan of Dwarrow traveling from Luin wouldn't arrive as timely as those in front of them. Dwarves could endure harsh weather, thrive in it, but even they were mindful of trekking in the dead of night through a blizzard on uneven roads. Yet when the Dwarves of Erebor only thought of doom and gloom, it was their neighbors who reached with a helping hand. The Elves of Mirkwood had informed of travelers from the West arriving on hoof and wheel in the cover of night, builders and workers who dropped their tools to assist the Dwarven outsiders by providing shelter and sending word that their kin would be secure until the roads were cleared. In turn, the Dwarves gave as much and almost all they were able to in wealth for the unrequested help, not since the reigning age of Girion the Great had they witnessed such generosity, so King Thorin didn't hesitate to send his own upon Dale to assist where they could. Stone smiths, loggers, builders, and laborers descended from the mountain and took the road most clear. With them they brought their wit and centuries of skills under their belt along with preserves and trinkets of good will. King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, who had hardly left his domain after the debacle confrontation of politics, even made himself known at a distance and sent his best hunters to come forth carrying great fish and deer from the wilder outskirts that bordered upon their woods. The Dwarves paid thrice fold in bartering for such goods, the Men of Dale gladly paying the Dwarven workers in finery of woven cloth, blankets, and covers, in turn the Elves gladly traded their boon for wine and gems that both sides offered almost freely.

In a way, the natural conflicts of the weather had brought a blessing in disguise for Bofur. He was able to halt on his duties of being a royal guard and permitted to leave with his kin to work as a laborer in Dale until the winter months ceased their onslaught. Although many of the soldiers Dain had brought with him had gone back home to the Iron Hills, those that stayed behind gradually had to take up secondary jobs to compensate the lack of workers. Such a situation also counted for Thorin's Company as well given that all of them had secondary skills that they had mastered over the long decades they had lived through. Whereas they were all scouts, soldiers, and guards, they were also mason workers, miners, or even loggers who had mastered the craft of turning trees to buildings. Yet _all_ Dwarves were masters of the smithy. Be it crafting jewelry or tools, to shields and weapons, it was an indoctrination and a right of passage that each and every single Dwarf know the in's and out's of a forge before they reached the age of thirty. So it was pf no surprise to see the Company working just as hard as their fellows hauling great slabs of stone to be cut or logs to be carved down, nor was it a surprise to even see Thorin among them, working the forge along with Dwalin who held a slab of metal that was being flipped in a timely manner to match the loud, clanging ring of a hammer when Thorin struck it upon each turn. Of course the people of Dale were astonished to see royalty among common folk, seeing Thorin _smiling_ and _laughing_ along as the foreman mouthed off a cheeky remark in Khûzdul. Even more, most of them garnered a particular amount of stares since most of them were toiling away topless or in under tunics that were thin as well as donning what appeared to be guards over their eyes that were crafted of metal and dark green glass, but strapped tight by leather belts behind their ears which bespoke upon gave them the ability to see when the sun glared rather fiercely when snow fell. They sang and joked as they built homes, reconstructed the holds and walls of the great city. Women and ladies cooed, admired the men of every shape and size by giggling with their flirtatious bantering, of course Fili and Kili indulged as they always did when a pretty face was in the area. For Bofur, he had eyes on Thorin whenever he was given those fleeting chances of being distracted, not since he was young did he eye up a Dwar with such need, but who could resist? Even for Thorin's age he was still well off physically; years of working the forge had worn the skin with tan lines, twice as broad shoulders and broad back accentuated with muscles, strong arms built up from years of wars and long fought battles. Scars etched and dotted in every which way that traced along a thicker scar jutting from ribs to hip, Bofur was grinning stupidly and had to look away less he fall off a ledge or trip over his own feet.

Yet thankfully when the work was done and over with, homes built and the longhouse reconstructed to be stronger and sturdier to outlast the winter, the Dwarves took their leave and returned to The Lonely Mountain where they were greeted with hot meals, full tankards, and good song. Bofur settled into his newly claimed home near the Healing Halls that had been finally cleared and properly repaired, a domicile of a home carved and cut from the very cliff side itself that sat beneath a great flight of stairs leading towards the old apothecary building where Oin worked with his assistants. Bofur had spent the first few days doing the best he could with what resources were had, and as per usual Thorin visited when he could. With the company they shared with one another, things went back to a normal that they were both familiar with; drinking, talking, and surprisingly enough simply enjoying the company they shared with one another. It wasn't uncommon for Dwar to be affectionate with one another, nor was it frowned upon or strange to have the menfolk of their kind being what humans called "soft" with one another. Cuddling was a means to keep warm during the harsh seasons, mines and caves were cold with drafts and fires were often unable to be lit due to natural gas vents. Grooming and tending to each others hair was too a Dwarven adaptation that had gradually become a social structure all on it's own. Stacked atop so few Dams being born, these quirks were deeply the norm among Dwarven men with one another who based bravado of strength and power more on the skills of combat or by their fertility allowed liberties to be had without any judgement. So there was no shame or humiliation to be had when Bofur sprawled atop and between Thorin's legs to have his hair brushed back and sideburns picked over gently to de-tangle while they spoke. Both of them topless to combat the roaring heat from the fireplace that warmed the entirety of Bofur's new home.

"Youre finally growing a proper beard," Thorin teased as he tugged at Bofurs sideburns that were finally gaining some thickness to them.

"Huh! I suppose that's a good sign! Say, ya never really spoke on it, but why'd you keep yer beard short?"

Thorin hummed low, as he went about brushing Bofur's hair back yet again and began braiding a ponytail back in place. "They say when a Dwarf experiences true glory in battle does their beard begin to take shape and grow."

"Aye I've heard of such things."

"Mine grew when I first confronted Azog and severed his arm, but it wasn't a true victory I vied for. My family and I still felt shame over the sacking of Erebor, my father severed his beard and branded himself in his humiliation, driven by madness he fled into the wilderness. In turn I had done the same by scorching my beard once a month to signify not only that shame, but also an oath to reclaim Erebor and restore our glory."

"So ya took the Drûngumn-lísthk?"

"How do you--"

" _I read_. Why's that always a surprise to folks?"

"Well you dont exactly sound literate, Bofur."

"Jus' cause I don't babble on like noblefolk doesn't mean I'm a fuckin idiot, mate. Does this mean yer gonna grow it back?"

"Aye, the final month of last year was the end of it."

"Be interrestin' to see how it looks fully grown!"

"Wouldn't know, never had it passed this length before."

Bofur sat up and looked at Thorin with brows raised in surprise at the admission that only made Bofur sound out a noise of disbelief. Thorin laughed and rubbed his own beard a little bit, somewhat embarrassed that he never had an entirely full Dwarven beard in his lifetime.

"Well no wonder Dams say you're so unapproachable! I had always thought it was cause of yer low brow!"

" _Really? That's_ why they don't hover like vultures?" Thorin wondered sarcastically. "What be wrong with my brow?"

"Nothing! A low brow and broad forehead make for lovely hand rests when sitting!"

"Wait what does that mea--"

" **_Anyways!_ **You should get goin', I need to rest up."

Yet Thorin didn't move from his seat as he slid his hand up under Bofur's tunic to pull him back down over his lap. Bofur groaned under his breath in annoyance and limbs went limp as he rested his cheek against Thorin's chest. _What's a few more minutes going to do? Why squander this?_ Bofur thought as he shifted somewhat to nuzzle nose against chest hair while arms wrapped to hug tight. _Fuck it. Another ten minutes won't hurt. Gods...he smells divine. Hickory and ale..fresh tobacco leaves._ **_Gold._ ** _He literally smells like gold! Oh Mahal ya truly crafted somethin' special!_ Bofur was in a quiet tizzy, just happy he could enjoy Thorin's body, face warmer than ever and cheeks going with color as he felt thick fingers rake through his hair to comb back over his ear.

"Tell me a story?"

Bofur's ears perked at the request and he inhaled--he smelled the faint traces of gold and hickory again that made him grin so wide that he couldn't lift his head to meet Thorin's gaze. Bofur spoke up, telling a tale that his mother had once told him about his father who was his nomad; the great trek through the desert to return to his homelands in the Red Mountains, how he traveled with a caravan of menfolk from the East that taught him the secrets on how to survive in the great wastelands. It wasn't long before Thorin was nodding off and Bofur was close behind him if it hadn't been for the loud pop of embers in the fireplace waking him with a small jerk. He blinked hard, sitting up to rub his eyes and yawn before doing his best to scoot off the sofa without waking Thorin. Just as Bofur stood and tried to walk away, his wrist was grabbed and suddenly he was tugged back again with all intentions to make him fall back atop him for the second time.

Bofur sighed out loud indignantly and sat upright as Thorin pushed his hair away over his shoulder to admire his back. They were both quiet and smiling, taking in as much as they could of one another with what little time they had. Thorin leaned in to get a better look at the gemstones that fluttered like starlight via the glow from the fire. He adored the shine and the way light was captured by each gemstone. Dark sapphires rubbed smooth by decades of friction from cloth pushed against thick muscle and skin, like snakeskin or glimmered with faint reflection and Thorin stared longer as he saw the faint arching traces of a softer light darting through the gems. He was hypnotized by watching what he realized were nerves and veins turned alight with a cyan hue, the way the faint nodules of light bounced and danced every which way. The way they glowed brighter when Bofur breathed in deep and exhaled slowly causes Thorin to lean again, arms wrapping around Bofur to keep him steady. His hands held as if he were embracing a lover once lost went well over Thorin's head as he seemed drawn even deeper into the glow cutting through the dark blue of gemstones. It was only when he caught himself--saw Bofur looking over his shoulder--their faces were close again and Thorin could see Bofur's eyes; emeralds flecked with sharp hints of gold only amplified by firelight.

"I-...I need to get ready," Bofur whispered softly.

"Stay with me," Thorin murmured in return, tone desperate that he didn't want Bofur to leave just yet.

"I will. It be my turn for the night duties. Don't tell me you've forgotten I'm part of guard, aye?" Bofur scoffed gently as he finally moved off the sofa.

Thorin finally stood, giving a polite bow before taking his leave to let Bofur get ready for the night shift of his guard duties. Bofur watched him leave, his chest tightened as well, mind dizzy with a euphoric warmth that made him grin with a giddy sense of excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Tôlka fôlholk - Forge Trading/To Switch Forges - AKA; Dwarven slang term for casual sex/friends with benefits.  
> Drûngumn-lísthk - Avowed Declaration; Dwarven Ritual often involved with swearing oaths to maintain social dignity. Ritual process often involves cutting and burning of beard hair until the oath is completed.


	8. Chapter 8

Bofur stood next to Ori as they gawked and looked around in quiet awe at the small discovery they had made when rotating rounds. Upon the precipice that arched high and broke away from the main path of the back gates where Bilbo had snuck in to confront Smaug, they had discovered something of a bowl-like area about as wide as an acre and twofold that long with a great, yawning opening above which allowed moisture and sunlight from outside to enter within. They had seen the stars above while on night duty, but had agreed to return when their duties were done and over with. Now, they had managed to found an adjacent path upon the lower floors that led within and what they discovered made them wonder what this spot used to be; the ground beneath their feet was soft and thick, rich soil that had been left untouched, but kept moist from rainfall outside drew a bemused wonder as they touched the ground to test the give and consistency. Ori hummed low as he observed the ring of mist that seemed to hang both high and low, commenting that the heat from within Erebor was meeting the cooler air from outside to cause such a high level of moisture to be contained within.

"I wonder if this is one of those orchards Dori spoke of?"

"Like Beorn's orchard?"

"Something like that. Dori said that when he was a pebble, Erebor was self sustaining in their own ways. They had their farms and crops strictly for breweries and specific medicinal herbs, so this may be one of them?"

"How many of these orchards did they have?"

"Heavens above, probably quite a few! Each one catered to a specific crop! Dori told me tales that we even grew apple and pear trees given that the climate within Erebor stays consistent all year round!"

"Suppose that be one of the great perks of livin' underground. By the way, I..wanted ta thank you for..well.." Bofur trailed off as he adjusted his hat to scratch the back of his head.

"Oh--well I understand. Sort of. Not really, but if I'm being honest, I'm academically invested. We Dwarrow do Magicks, but it's so restricted that it's bloody near impossible to study it on an elective level. There's so many books I've wanted to read on magic! I couldn't! They're hoarded or hidden away!"

"So I'm the old dog ya feed berries to?"

"Ye--what? No. No! Do you even want to learn magic?"

"It never really crossed my mind?"

"Was that your first time performing magic?"

Bofur stopped walking along the barren field and squinted at Ori who had a small booklet and quill scribbling away which only made him roll his eyes hard and shake his head. Arms crossed over chest as Bofur exhaled a deep sigh to try and not snap at Ori since he couldn't entirely blame the guy. Young and bright eyed, full of that curious awe of the world that all young Dwar harbored. Dori had coddled the boy far too much and now they were all reaping his sowing in the form of Ori constantly asking questions, wanting to run blindly headstrong into battles, gladly adoring the weight of a weapon as much as a book and quill in hand. A sheltered life brewed resentment in some ways, nevertheless, Bofur beckoned Ori to follow as he began to speak.

"Me mum used to..tell me stories about me da, alright? About his side of the family and all, Dwarves from Khazad-dûm, folk that were once part of clans."

"Which ones?"

"Dunno. After the great sacking caused by Durin's Bane, they chose to be nameless and nomadic which at the time was kinda' frowned upon. Ya were part of a clan cause it was safe, established a hold and thrived, ya know? Nah, they thought movin' would be safer. Course over time ya eventually settle whether ya like to or not."

"So was your father able to wield magic?"

"Not..in the sense of flinging spells or whatever. Mum said he was a Magic Man cause he was charmin' and was damn good at swayin folks to his favor."

Ori frowned and looked a little confused, trying to understand what Bofur was getting at, yet the Dwarf frowned and kept quiet as he watched Bofur while they kept walking.

"So..you're saying it's a possibility? That your bloodlines harbor the arcane?"

"Aye! Maybe? He never stayed about for long, mum says he was a wanderlust soul so it was normal he spent months on the road. Then one day he never came back. Mum found another Dwar to be with, eleven months later we got ourselves a Bombur," Bofur said with a chuckle and a bemused grin that Ori mimicked right back. "He came off as a decent fellow at first, but he  _ despised me _ . In turn he kinda resented mum for whatever reason, but I think all around he jus' had some weird hangups about me da."

"Is that how he got with your mum?"

"Aye, he and da were good friends or--business partners? But he wasn't a nice Dwar, Ori. He never hit mum, but mum never stopped him from hitting me and I thought if she did, he'd start on her or Bombur. He'd go to the taverns after work, come home, beat me up, then go to bed."

"Bofur, I don't understand, why are you--"

"It got so bad to the point where I'd run off and hide somewhere, but he'd always find me or wait till I come home then punish me fer bein' out past curfew and runnin' off. Then one night he beat me so hard near the riverside that I glowed."

"You  _ glowed?" _

_ " _ Aye, palms glowed. Mouth glowed. He got pulled under."

"Pulled un--"

"The mud took'em. We were by the river that poured tae' the lake and he was beatin me! I managed to kick'em off me and me hands started glowin, I was just.. _ so angry _ . So me h-hands glowed, I balled'em into fists, and the mud pulled him down and--" Bofur inhaled deep and gave a dismissive shrug.

It was a heavy topic that left them both standing quietly while Ori watched, waited for him to speak again, but all Bofur could do was keep his head down with eyes staring at their boots. He tried to process everything over and over again in his.mind those past few years, but in the long run Bofur begrudgingly accepted the cards he had been dealt. His father was elusive, avoiding of his responsibilities, his step-father was violently abusive, and his mother was as passive as a lamb. Yet he didn't allow these things to falter what optimism and good nature he had.

"Th-that was me  **_last_ ** time using magic."

"What of Bombur's father?"

Bofur shrugged and grimaced as he tried to grin, but he only looked as if he were in pain as he shrugged again while clearing his throat and beckoning Ori to follow. They moved on, finally returning towards familiarizing paths where the starting din of construction gave way to the great, glowing forges that had false of actual magma siphoned up from below and funneled through great stone pipes that heated and fueled the entirety of the mountain itself. Already the both of them could see something of a marketplace being established; caravans being broken down for their lumber to recreate stalls where what little wares they had were being traded upon one another or purchased by the guards as gifts for their loved ones who would soon arrive.

"Were you ever at all curious on exploring the possibilities of becoming a Mâugr?"

"Aye, when I was a pebble! I used to make these lil wooden figurines dance fer Bombur, had dreams of goin up into the Blue Mountains and becomin' an apprentice. Those things weren't to happen though, I knew little of me kin's background and I knew early on that mâuga wasn't really looked highly upon."

"Well why not now?"

Bofur suddenly stopped at the question that made him blink with realization over Ori's question that made him huff a noise of laughter.

"Don't tempt me, laddie. My goals changed when I got older and I ain't oh so hellbent with studies and books anymore. Never been an academic dwarf."

Ori hummed thoughtfully at that, he was just about to speak up on the suggestion that he could maybe find some books within the libraries, yet Bofur was quick to shoot him down again by dismissing the conversation with a prompt subject change. When Ori persisted, Bofur was quick to bite back with a polite warning and was quick to take his leave before he lashed out. Ori watched his friend leave in a huff of stress, partially feeling guilty that he had pushed his friend to a brink, but he was quick to take his leave to return to his duties for the evening.

\-----

Bofur sat before the table with the rest of the Company as they laughed and sang about while tossing rolls at one another. Part of him wanted to join in, to laugh at all the jokes, join Dwalin and his fiddle in song. Yet he found himself distracted by thoughts and what he had confessed to Ori. He knew well enough that Ori wouldn't speak a word of what he said, the boy was smart and he'd been lying to Dori for years as is about sneaking out to join him and Nori for late night drinks and pranks. There was a strong sense of trust between those brothers and his kin anyways, yet for some reason Bofur had a weird sense of relief that he wasn't sure if it was the right emotion to have. Yet he had confessed and Ori hadn't judged him, in fact he had apologized with a small gift for his nosiness from earlier which was a genuine surprise on Bofurs end. As he minded himself by trying to cut the too hard bread into slices for his stew, he was tapped on the shoulder and looked over to see all too familiar red hair and hooked nose that came with the curious glint of dark eyes looking upon him. Nori gave an upnod, beckoning him to follow as he walked away from the others to take his leave. At first, Bofur didnt get up right away to follow, biding his time to eat a little before finally taking his leave to follow Nori's footsteps that trailed towards a rocky outcrop that had been carved into a balcony outpost. Nori stood, staring down at the steep trenches below, a majority of what could be seen blocked off by the jagged cliffs, but one could easily see the dirt road that led towards the glimmering, yet faint, outpost that held the border of Dale and Erebor marked. Bofur moved in while holding a rather large chunk of dried beef in his hands, busy with tearing the strips in two before handing the larger piece to Nori who accepted.

"How long we been friends, Boff?"

"Ohh..good while now. Three decades?"

"Aye summat like that and you've always heeded my advice?"

"Almost always. Lotta times you got the both of us in trouble, but--I suppose you and your's have kinda always had mine's back."

"Promise ya if Dori knew half the times ya busted me out of jail, he'd have boxed your nose till it fell off. Still, why won't ya heed me warnin's about Thorin?"

Bofur tensed and felt that deep seeded urge to be defensive, to deny and rebuff, but he opted to chew on the jerky and give some thought to his words. "I..actually have. Sort of. I'll admit that I wont be tryin to jump the goat with anything. My affections for him haven't changed, but I am not used to being vied after. He wants me, Nori."

"He wants the part of you that ya been showin now, but do ya know if he wants  _ all _ of you?"

"Why do ya keep fixating on us?"

"It's an interestin turn of events and I just wanna see someone I care about not put themselves through hell fer a Dwar who might not appreciate them  _ entirely." _

Nori's words rang true and hung heavy against Bofurs ears as he looked to his friend with a quiet appreciation. He was right. Bofur had no idea if Thorin would truly accept  _ all  _ of him with who he was and who he is now. He wouldn't know any of such truths less he spoke up or Thorin found out indirectly, and that alone was yet another arduous task on its own.

"He'd accept me. Upset and confused at first, but with time--"

"Bofur, ya know I hate bein the bûrlok of situations, but ya way too optimistic, lad. Thorins from an entirely different world even within our own society. He's  _ royal folk. _ What the people think of him weighs heavy on his shoulders. A King be nothin, but a servant to the people and with him bein of Durin's Blood he's expected to adhere tae certain standards."

"Standards I don't meet."

"Standards that are old, outdated, and fuckin ridiculous, but  _ they're our culture.  _ If it be by some chance that Thorin does accept you fer bein' an Íshthaki-Dwar, what would his family think? What would his advisors? The rest of the Company? Not even cause you bein' Íshthaki, but cause of yer status. The lot of'em would assume yer a consort at best, which would be fine at first, but you'd be stripped of what status ya got now. Ya'd be beholden and bound to Thorin's family for the rest of yer life, meanin' they could do as they please with ya without question. By Mahal's beard I won't even start if ya get preg--"

"By Erú ya made yer point, Nori!"

Nori bit his tongue and kept his eyes forward before clenching his fists and clenching his jaw so tight that Bofur was able to see a vein throb against his temple.

"Barzûl, Bofur! I promise I ain't against you on this! My intentions are of someone who cares about you. I don't want to see you get hurt, or possibly even worse."

"Nori I--" Bofur sighed with frustration and raised his hands to stop himself and to stop Nori from speaking up out of turn. They both fell quiet as Bofur tried to find his words and for once Nori saw his friend genuinely contemplating the situation, clearly frustrated, but the growing anxiety was present enough to make Nori back off properly by reaching out to rest a hand upon Bofur's shoulder. Quiet reassurance that he had no intention to cause such emotional strain, but just like Bofur, he too was worried about this ordeal. All that Nori had spoken on was quite true; Thorin wasn't an outright threat or risk, but the collective of those that revolved around him and the crown were. One couldn't assume or predict the mindsets of five or more other people basing judgement on the differences of their separate culture of being Íshthaki.

"What would you do, Nori?"

Nori's brow rose as he leaned on the railing to hum low before turning to give a sad smirk at Bofur trying to turn and flip the situation to put him on the spot.

"I dunno? I ain't one that vies for long term commitments like the lot of you do. But! If I found a Dwarrow that was keen on me like Thorin clearly is with you? I'd tell him the truth."

"If they deny these truths?"

"Then clearly they isn't worthy of the love and optimism that Mahal blessed ya with, Bofur. At the end of the day, I always found it better tae get a bleat from goats than from hens in the coop."

Nori didn't stick around for a response or a retort from Bofur, a need to fill his belly a little more along with an urgency to return to his own duties of lurking in the shadows that he thrived in. Bofur lingered upon the balcony, taking the time to be alone and enjoy the view that was before him. In that fleeting moment of quiet with only the wind billowing in the distance and music from afar, Bofur meditated on his affairs a d the current state of his ordeals that left him with such a headache that he thought it felt as if hot spikes and pins were burrowing deep into the thick of his skull. In due time, Bofur took his leave with head still hurting but affirmations made on what he needed to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Mâugr - Mage  
> Mâuga - Magic  
> Bûrlok - A temperamental and whiny, young goat. Dwarven insult often used towards those who are naggy/whiny.  
> Íshthaki - As far as Dwarf legends go, Íshthaki was one of Durin's lovers who was a legendary shield maiden that often disguised themselves as male/took on male pronouns when in battle. Trans/Genderfluid Dwarves take their name as a symbol and to honor their teachings.  
> Barzûl - Common Dwarf curse often means shit/damn depending on the context.


	9. Chapter 9

"High Priestess Tormund is inquiring upon repairs of the chapel district, also she's keen on wanting to begin the Cleansing ceremonies and she's rather testy that we didn't adhere to Uæireant-Urnaí after Durin's Day--"

"As if we could? We were in a bloody damn war! How the hell would she expect us to fast and attone when we're half dead?!" Dwalin complained.

"We'd already fasted for practically the whole year as is during our journey anyways," Bofur complained equally.

"I've just realized we missed Aň-Fána Yêvanne too. Shit. We've missed most of the good Holidays!" Fili said with annoyed surprise.

There was a mutual grumbling of agreement to be had amongst the Company during morning meeting that day. Emissaries, dignitaries, politicians, and speakers from all of the other six holds were starting to pop up in Erebor. It was a greatly tense moment for all within the Company given that most of them knew the old ways of how seats of power were maintained. Even though Thorin reassured that their seats within his circle would be secure, it wouldn't stop any noble Dwarrow of any shape or size to go about challenging them for their authority. Nevertheless, there were bigger issues to focus on; all of Erebor had worked diligently throughout the winter months, between repairing and cleaning up the damage Smaug had dealt, to hunting down Orcs still hiding about the mountainside, to assisting the people of Dale with repairing their city, there was quite a loud grumbling for some sort of celebration to be had. If it was one thing Dwarves loved, it was a party and all the better if there was a valid reason behind the party to go all out. Deep down all Dwarves loved peace and merriment, they adored food, and they were deeply, madly in love with a good pint. Yet Thorin was reluctant, he didn't like the idea of revelry so soon, especially after the whole Goblin incident in the libraries, but it was safe to say that Thorin's caution was rightfully justified in the means of an age old saying;  _ A Dwarrow that celebrates victory too soon, will rouse attention and wont wake to see sunrise.  _ It wasnt as if he were being a stick in the mud, nor was he a humbug, he wanted to celebrate too! Yet he was simply worried and that worry came from decades of being hunted down when seeking out his father in the wilderness. Not all amongst their own were wholly happy to see yet another Durinsblood upon the great throne once more.

"We should call it Companion's Day," Bofur mused with a chuckle as he sat back in his seat to mull over his pipe.

The others drew a little quiet at Bofur's musings, glancing at one another then back at their friend with drawn interest. Bofur paused with packing tobacco in the pipe and eyes darted about as he cleared his throat. "Ya know, to..give praise and celebrate our companions."

"So a holiday just for us?"

"Yes--well no! Sort of! Not just us, but why not include Dalefolk and the Elves?"

"Dwarves don't party with Elves."

"Aye, but we fought by each other's side, why not celebrate our companions with..er..games. Challenges. To the victor go the praise and rewards of a year's worth of gold--"

"A year's worth!?"

"Well at least a decent sum. We can't very well calculate a year's worth given that our lot spends a little differently, but at least enough to maybe make it a tradition to celebrate our peaceful unity."

"And have the beardless lot cheat us out of the boon every year?"

"Another reason to have an excuse to pull hairs. Quite the idea, but poor execution, Bofur," Balin mused with a chuckle as he took a few notes.

There were mutual nods at Balin's remark, though some disagreed, piping up swiftly that it merit more thought to such an idea which may actually hold some promise. More so that the mention of games perked up intrigue of possible entertainments at the expense of some unlucky chosen few brought more wanting debate between the passing of drinks shared via barrel. As the meeting gradually went on discussing possibilities of leaving the celebrations to just their own, yet in due time the meeting dispersed and the Dwarves were free to congregate on other subjects as they began taking their leave for a possible meal or other duties. Thorin lingered with Balin as they discussed everything, though more so Balin lectured at the meeting since Thorin was greatly distracted by looking across the room at Bofur. The Dwarf was happily chuckling along to some sort of joke being told by the eldest Ri brother who was laughing along just as much before his younger siblings joined in. He couldnt hear much of the conversation, that alone was a strain, but he could make out the laughter. Gods. It stirred something deep within Thorin, awoke a confusing feeling of anticipation clashing with a wave of repressed longing that drove him to move forwards, yet he stopped himself with jaw clenching when he noticed Balin ceased with his lecture. He froze when he caught Balin's gaze who was looking up at him with raised brows while biting the inside of his cheek. Both of them followed in the direction he was previously gazing, noticing Bofur being hailed by Dwalin and drawn near to be swooped into a barrel hug that had them all laughing at Bofurs loud protests.

"Oh dear," Balin drawled with a tired sigh. "I should be surprised. More so annoyed that I'm not, honestly."

"Balin--"

" _ Don't.  _ The more ignorant I am of the situation, the less involved I'll have to be in the future. All I will say is to mind yourself and to keep whatever affections ya have politely behind closed doors where they belong. Nepotism is never a great look for any King no matter how well the story is woven, Thorin."

"They're hardly affections. We're only friends that keep each other's company."

"Aye and knowing  _ you _ , Mahal knows you've pursued, correct?"

Thorin looked clearly annoyed by Balin's astute observations. Was he so easy to read? He should have known better than to keep secrets from the old man who had a past reputation for advisory and espionage. Balin studied Thorins expression for a few seconds before clearing his throat and waving his hand to dismiss the growing tension between the both of them. They both looked upon Bofur again, how he managed to wrestle himself out of Dwalin's grip while following the group out to retrieve a meal before returning to their duties.

"I suppose this should be a blessing. Here we thought you were abstaining as if you were a eunuch."

" _ We? _ "

"Dis. Me. Dwalin. The last time ya were ever fixated on someone was that bloody Dam of the Lake or however you used to call her. For the longest time we thought it would be quite a shame that the last of your libido be spent on a drunken hallucination."

"How thoughtful of my siblings to be so mindful of my sexual interests," Thorin drawled with cheeky sarcasm.

Balin had a hearty laugh at Thorins annoyance, but waved it off again before toddling along humming thoughtfully. "All I ask is that ya don't let Bofur become a distraction from yer duties, lad. Oh--and tell your sister."

"My sis--why should I inform Dis?"

"You know how protective she is. The last thing ya want is yer sister bullying again."

Thorin watched Balin take his leave and at first he was tempted to follow, yet the heeded advice from the old Dwarf left him lingering in a bout of intrusive thoughts that toiled questions in his head. More so his concerns of he and Bofur's involvement than anything else. Was it so risky? Balin dismissed it as no issue, but what if there were those who saw it as a genuine concern? It  _ was  _ nepotism given their rank in status, technically he was Bofur's superior. For now, Thorin did his best to shrug it off and finish with his own paperwork that included the further investigation of emissaries hellbent wanting a meeting, yet even with a busy workload, it did little to cease his mind from questioning everything Balin said. It even came to a point where he didn't join any of them for supper, too overwhelmed and mentally exhausted left him with such a headache that he thought Azog himself had struck him upon his skull.

_ The last time ya were ever fixated on someone was that bloody Dam of the Lake or however you used to call her.  _ That made Thorin pause everything as if a stampede of bulls had been forced to come to a scattering halt before reaching the cliff's edge. It made him perk up with confusion at such a small fraction of information that he practically made his stiff neck pop aloud. Hailing Dwalin didn't take much effort, the guard at the front door obliged without hesitation and sped off as far as stout legs were able to travel. The wait wasn't long and by the time Dwalin had arrived he was sitting before the fireplace within his study whittling away over his own overwhelmed thoughts that clouded his mind so greatly. Dwalin greeted him with a polite bow before being beckoned to draw near as Thorin encouraged him to take the seat adjacent to his own. Reassurance was that the request for an audience was upon a personal matter and it was strictly off the record given the subject was deemed rather private. They spoke of the past, happy nostalgia of Thorin's rule of Little Luné where they worked the forged smelting tools and weapons. How Dwalin was captain of the guard and his brother minded after the younglings as a teacher, yet Thorin drew admittance that his memories had waned greatly. He remembered the sorrows of losing his father to madness within Mirkwood, the shame and humiliation that burdened his shoulders of his people that were once royal and proud now forced to tediously work for mere scraps and handouts from those that felt pity. He remembered drinking a  _ lot _ and becoming obsessed with beer and rum so excessively that it played with his mind, wrought and reformed it to where even now Thorin was unable to recall moments where he was properly sober. By Mahal, he could barely remember the boys' birthdays and it filled him with a remorse that he wasn't there more to help Dis raise Fili and Kili, that Balin and Dwalin often had to step in and raise them in his stead. Long nights spent trying to forget came with arduous morning hangovers that had now caught up to him and he now felt ashamed-- _ vulnerable-- _ that he has so little memory left of the past forty years. All of it a blur smeared as if too wet paint was splattered in a watery mess on a canvas. Shapes were there, sometimes he could connect the pieces, but all of it was mere confusion.

Thorin wept over his admittance for he felt weak of the mind. Alcoholism and then Dragon Sickness? He was to have strength, the might of his ancestors and his people at his back so that he could be strong! Now he felt sickened and furious in ways that he could not describe properly and it filled Thorin with worry and hesitation because he didn't want to slip onto folly again, for what he could remember  _ scared him.  _ Were these fleeting memories hallucinations of a drunken madman or were they true? And if so, where was the Dam? Did he hurt her in some way? Had he done something so inexcusable in his drunken tantrum and his mind simply repressed it? He begged Dwalin to help him, begged him as a child would with an elder brother for advice and mercy for he feared the worst that he had committed a crime that was unforgivable, that he wasn't sure if he could live with such realities.

Dwalin did his best to comfort his shield brother, consoling where he was able to with reassurance of information. As much as Thorin liked to assume the worst, his drinking binges were hardly of the dire sort. Sad and depressing, yes, but he never harmed others during those sorrowful moments. If anything, he, his brother, and Dis all tried their best to be by Thorins side when they were able to, but it was greatly expected that Thorin was far more like his father than he was led to believe; Thrain too had his habits of binging, and he too had the strange quirk of being driven by bouts of wanderlust when drunk that they used to find him in the oddest of places. As for the loss of memories, that too was given reassurance that Dwalin informed of which his brother would be more tactful with explaining than he. The three of them were  _ old. _ They had all seen and endured things that no living being should have had to ever experience, let alone multiple traumatic instances in a single lifetime. It was wholeheartedly expected that Thorins mind was repressing things and drinking only solidified such acts. Thorin was no weaker than any other Dwarf, if anything he was strong  _ because  _ he was able to admit his shortcomings and be wise enough with awareness upon faults that man Dwarves rarely had the gumption to do all on their own.

"But what of that Dam? Did I hurt her in some way?"

"From what I can remember she stopped visitin' ya. We never found her--promise you the three of us went out of our ways tae find this mysterious woman you were in love with, but she was like the wind, mate."

"A shame really. Not knowing if I had been at fault for her leaving or even if she's still alive for that matter. T'would be futile to search for her now."

"Aye true, but have some hope? Maybe she's still in Luin or on her way here."

"What makes you say such things?"

"Call it a warrior's instinct or what may have you, but either way, thinking so little of yerself needs to stop, Thorin. Tis be a poison like any other."

Thorin still had his doubts, spoke of worries yet again that drove Dwalin to scoff loudly and mock him that his pessimism was far greater than his strength at times. In due time, Dwalin was able to leave with his duties as guard captain needing to be tended to and Thorin was left to contemplate over his thoughts. Truly it was a burden that he was a dour thinker; realistic and straightforward, but his mind had always been his greatest folly. Be it of hubris from determination or melancholy from self loathing, Thorin struggled to keep Dwalin's encouraging words with him. Through the fog of his sorrows, all Thorin Oakenshield could think upon was that strange Dam and those sharp, green eyes flecked with pieces of gold. A warm dimpled smile and dark hair, singsong voice that had once soothed his ears drew him to feel so sick to his stomach that he could barely stand.

"Let Mahal hear my prayers,  _ please  _ let thy lost love return to me. Let their footfalls be swift and bless them with courage so that we may find one another again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> Uæireant-Urnaí - Hours of Pennance; A post holiday ritual similar to the Jewish holiday known as Yom Hadin. Dwarves will often spend the first hours after Durin's Day seeking penance by fasting, prayer, and offerings to Mahal.
> 
> Aň-Fána Yêvanne - Blessings of Yavanna; A holiday similar to the Jewish holiday Sukkot where Dwarves give praise/worship to the Goddess Yavanna upon the first week of Spring.


	10. Chapter 10

Bofur and Nori sat upon the balcony of a small manor home that was tucked away closest to the path that led towards the arboretum that was long dead and overdue for needed attention. They joked and laughed over a pint, gladly enjoying their downtime from their work by spending most of the morning mulling about being cheeky towards one another. Though at the moment they were recalling the events of Bofur being challenged over his parliamentary seat of Thorins Inner Council. Just as Nori had predicted, noblemen from Luin that had mediated and escorted Thrain in his daily duties, for they had also counciled Thorin in his earlier years as a prince and had grown quite content of their roles of indirect control over laws. Thorin had done a sweeping sense of judgement over most of them; those that were loyal to him and their people were kept put, those that were too lazy to hide their deception were thrown out, but nevertheless there were still snakes among them that slipped through the cracks who were hellbent to gain authority and a voice near Thorin's ear.

The challenger was a young nobleman, an apprentice to his Uncle that had served Thrain prior to his disappearance and they knew from the get go it was a test to gauge Bofur's tact in combat. At first, Bofur had politely declined, for he was never one for violence if it could be avoided by some other means, but the nobleman persisted under the pressure of his uncle and with it came a hand axe being thrown that Bofur deflected by catching and throwing on the ground. Such an act of violence caused an uproar on both sides within the mess hall when Bofur lashed out in retaliation. A big enough commotion brought in the guards and Dwalin tore the two apart threatening jail time if they didn't cease with the petty nonsense. Bofur left with back straight and a black eye, but the nobleman remained, sobbing over his broken nose and two missing front teeth.

"Told ya it was gonna happen," Nori said with a bemused grin as he handed Bofur a wet rag to wipe his face clean again.

"Hardly a challenge. He bellied up way too fast."

"He still challenged ye' though. They testin' the waters with the lot of us. Balin got challenged last week."

" _No!"_

"Aye! Poor bastard got roughed up pretty badly, limped to the healin halls and got cut off by Dwalin instead. He still in there!"

"By Durin that's jus' cruel!"

"Hell, Ori got challenged yesterday, but Dori broke the bloke's arm."

"And I would have broken the other one if Dwalin hadn't stopped me. Honestly that brute is a hypocrite sometimes," Dori clipped tartly from the doorway as je gave an upnod in greeting at Bofur.

They both laughed, clearly amused by all the ridiculous bout of confrontation that was actually wanted by the company. They'd never openly admit it, but they were all particularly used to enduring the brutal side that adventures used to harden others. The Company was bored one way or another and their monotonous jobs only took up so many hours in the day. Yet as the three of them spoke of the possibility of being challenged again, Nori changed the subject onto more pressing matters that him and Bofur needed to run an errand, which drew questioning by Dori who was particularly suspicious of his brother whenever there were the random prompt moments of abruptly leaving without divulging details. With Nori, it was as common as a magpie's nest riddled with baubles. Nori didnt speak on their intentions and Bofur had learned ages ago not to ask questions and play along until Dori was well out of hearing range. Thankfully, Dori didn't pry given he had work to do, so by the time the both of them were taking a stroll through the overgrown and unmediated gardens, he was able to question Nori's actions.

"I know ya told me to put this topic to rest and that ya got it under control, but after everything that's been goin on I'm advisin you as a friend to tell Thorin about bein what you are."

Bofur was quiet, hands behind his back and face looking grim as he stared down at the ground to think over his friend's words. He exhaled a low sigh of frustration, but gave a dismissive shrug and looked towards Nori with a sad smirk.

"I was to tell him two weeks ago, but things been changin unexpectedly."

"How so?"

"He hasn't been to visit ever since I suggested that whole game idea between us and Elves tae keep the peace. Thought I pissed'em off so I visited about three or so days later to apologize. He was... _ distracted. _ "

"What?"

Bofur shrugged again and gave a sad chuckle. He reached up to scratch the back of his head and gave another sad sigh at it all. Bofur didn't know how to take such an abrupt change in Thorin, sure he questioned it, but with work and the mounting tensions of confrontation from nobles trying to take his seat, he had honestly been too distracted with it all to fret over Thorin. Which he did indeed feel guilt over and tried to amend just recently, only to be rebuffed by Thorin who appeared to be lost in his own mind again. Nori wondered if it was Dragon Sickness again, yet Bofur was quick to deny such a claim that if anyone were to detect  _ that  _ it would be Balin or Dwalin first to recognize all those red flags. Nevertheless, they discussed what Bofur witnessed and all Nori was able to deduct was that maybe Thorin was somewhat overwhelmed with duties or focused on a current objective. Reassurance was had on Nori's behalf by patting Bofur on the back and telling him not to fret, even suggesting that they should invite Thorin over to talk with intentions of pulling him away from all the overwhelming ordeals. Bofur promised to handle it and swiftly changed the topic onto more pressing matters that he wished to train with intentions to improve his technique, not that he had any doubts, but he often looked down upon his own abilities at times and was worried. Although being challenged was quite the entertaining ordeal, Dwarven Tradition stringently dictated that all the seats of council beneath a King of his first seven years of ruling were open for challenge by combat. Although it never took the entirety of seven years, such a number was blessed and represented the first seven Dwarf Lords along with there being seven different positions that worked alongside the Crown to ensure the entirety of their government functioned and their society thrived. If the victor could hold that said position for a whole year, then all titles, responsibilities, and boons would be under their belt. To the loser was humiliation. Although they were to not suffer of wealth or comforts, there was the shame from associates and even kin, for a Dwarf who could not protect what was rightfully theirs to own garnered doubts and judgement. Surely they were not weak in arm or wielding a weapon in battle, but of wit, tact, and creativity that ensured their very survival. Dwarves could always find work one way or another, but to face such levels of humiliation by their own? Even Bofur who cared little for the judgement of others didn't want to place his kin under such harsh scrutiny. So Nori helped him trained, taught him how to move as a fox does, showed him a few swift and dirty tricks as a last resort if things turned dire, and as compensation Bofur helped Nori strike with far more accuracy and with strength upon the shoulders than within his forearms.

In due time,they eventually parted ways so that Bofur could get ready; he bathed himself head to toe and wove his hair back with much more respectability than the lopsided pigtails he always wore. This time he braided them back and away so that his face shone more, though he hated the fact he couldn't wear his hat. Leaving such nagging thoughts behind, Bofur pressed on and took the winding path that eventually led to the royal courtyard. It was a mountain within a mountain; intricately carved, woven, and cut from the thickest pieces of green marble, obsidian, and granite with thick rooting veins of gold that winked and glittered when even the faintest bit of light came upon it. Staircases leading up towards double doors caused Bofur to look up high at the great bridge that connected the established building where private meetings and discussions were held. He had never seen the back end of the building before, though Bofur knew that Thorin often exited through an opposite entry way, Bofur was weirdly impressed by Erebors architect and creative designs of how they had constructed their buildings. Bofur saw movement along the bridge and gave a whistle up to see Thorin walking with his night guard that drew forth raised brows and Thorin looking down to smirk at the familiar face.

"Burnin the night oil, Sir?"

"Aye, the last meeting for the night."

"Could ya settle for one more? I'd like to discuss somethin' with ya about what's happened."

"Are you to mean that fiasco in the mess hall?"

"Aye!"

Thorin gave an upnod at the request, instruction to the guard to let him pass when he came around, and watching Bofur move to walk around the great hedges of fencing as he entered his office. Bofur took his time to enjoy the surrounding area, seeing the green buds starting to grow along the once dead bushes that made him stall to enjoy life finally returning to Erebor gave little comforts that things were promising. Yet as he began to move along once more, Bofur was stopped when he felt a hand upon his shoulder that made him turn to look upon Dis. At an instant he bowed respectfully in greeting, but Dis insisted that he stand and cease with formalities as she beckoned him to stay put for a quick chat before his meeting. As far as Dams went, Dis was indeed gorgeous with graying black hair and bright eyes. Similar to her brother, she had a hooked nose and prominent brow with topaz eyes that showed a cold curiosity that clashed with the warm smile over her face.

"Ah, Bofur! I've heard quite a bit of you. How are you, dear?"

"I--well I suppose alright, but I should get going m'lady, I've got a meeting--"

"With Thorin. I'm aware, but I wanted to have a quick chat with you first. I promise it'll be short!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: NSFW/18+ Smut

Thorin sat within his office while quietly browsing over the evening logs, though on occasion he stood to move towards the window as if expecting to see Bofur. It was strange how the Dwarf had requested a private meeting only to show up late and Thorin grew a little annoyed over the fact that he lingered. Deep down, he confessed to himself that part of him genuinely did miss Bofur and his company. The evenings of having a drinking partner, tipsy jokes and tales told sleepily, the lazy cuddles and snogging sessions were a weird reprieve from the monotony that Thorin had truly enjoyed. Yet with his fixations on the past yet again, the King had expended a few resources that month seeking out information on the rogue Dam in Luin. He had a description and a personality to match, but with the Dam being from so long ago, he was unsure if she was even alive. Still, Thorin had hope and he contemplated on that hope as he tried to remember over those fleeting moments of drunken misery. Her eyes, her hair, dimpled smile, laughter that sounded of gilded bells. The way she wore her apron and how her pockets always had some kind of treat or handkerchief within. Thorin did remember something though; a cold night had driven the Dam to huddle close within his lap, how warm she felt and how easily her body tucked against his own. He remembered rubbing her legs, feeling scarring over her calf that drew curiosity.

_ "Neighbor's dog bit me when I was a pebble! S'quite fine, though. Doesn't hurt anymore!" _

Of all the things he remembered; the way the skin rose and sank with teeth marks of the dog bite, he remembered focusing on the little indentations, count each one while fingertips traced over it. Had it become a habit for Thorin to rub the dog bite? Did he have a fixation on where the Dam knew the pains of a beast, so she too could relate to the pain of being marked like he had from Smaug all those years ago? How could he not remember her name?!

The loud knocking tore Thorin from wandering thoughts as he saw Bofur being escorted inside. They greeted one another with smiles, Bofur bowing respectfully before Thorin beckoned him to have a seat so they could discuss the pressing matters.

"Right, I'm sorry to do this on such a short notice."

"Isn't a problem at all, you know well enough I can spare time for the Company."

"Everyone's quite busy with everything goin' on that I wasn't sure if--"

"No no, I understand, but I want my council to be aware that they can approach me if needed. What is it that you wanted to discuss?"

"I--...er.."

Bofur found his words caught in the back of his throat, his anxiety now going through the roof as he darted eyes every which way. He was second guessing this, the fear of rejection was so prominent in his mind that he felt an aching churn in the pit of his belly.

_ What the fuck is wrong with you? _

"Bofur?"

_ Say something! _

"I--the library."

"What about the library?"

"The--the attack. With the goblins. I--"

_ No no no! Not that!? _

"I...caused it."

"I thought you wanted to discuss--"

"I-I used magic 'cause the goblins were after me n'Ori, but we didn't cause'em to show up that was wholly unrelated! But when we were bein chased, Ori-- he tripped! His ankle! I dunno, but I had tae stop'em and jus-- I raised me hands and things started glowin and I could hear the stone and it sang and I hummed back and the stone rose and--"

"By Durin's beard, slow down!" Thorin said with a doubtful chuckle.

Bofur went still as he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from speaking up again. Thorin took a moment to process all that he was told and exhaled a frustrated groan while pinching the bridge of his nose in thought.

"So from how you've put this, you and Ori were...attacked by goblins, that alone is clear, but you...used magic. Which explains how you managed to thwart them on your own."

"You don't believe me?"

"Yes and no. Who else knows of this?"

"Ori witnessed it."

"Anything else?"

Bofur went quiet, staring down at the floor and took a moment to process what he had said. He felt sick and gross, humiliated that the fumble over his own words had made him confess the wrong thing, but deep down there was at least some relief to be had. Thorin seemed frustrated, that much he could see, but even now Bofur knew that a tangent was to be had. A strongly worded lecture of being irresponsible, keeping secrets, a question on his trust and loyalty yet again that was raising red flags.

"Yer upset."

" _Yes!_ Very much so! Why did you keep this hidden? Why pressure a young one to collaborate--"

" _To collaborate?_ It ain't some kinda coup, Thorin--"

_**"WITH YOUR SECRETS AND ACTIONS IT APPEARS THAT WAY, BOFUR!"** _

Lips pursed tight as Bofur flinched at the booming bellows that sounded like thunder to his ears. Head bowed and shoulders hunched, he did his best to think fast as he glanced upon Thorin who looked collectively fed up. He caught that sharp gaze, topaz eyes glaring upon him only made him express pain and remorse for even speaking upon wielding magic. Thorin gave a deep exhale and slowly stood to move around the desk and stand before Bofur with hand resting upon his shoulder to bekon him stand as his equal. Once stood, Bofur was pulled in with Thorins forehead against his own and hands squeezing arms to give comfort.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to shout at you."

"Nah, justified action fer what's been had."

"I favor you, Bofur. I suppose that could be the reason I find myself so.. _reactive_ to the ridiculous things you do. You're as stubborn as a wild goat!"

"And yer as brittle as sheetrock. Why have ya not come to mine these past few weeks?"

"Work. Distractions. My mind is my greatest hindrance at times and I find myself lost within memories that need to be pieced together."

"Well would ya do this Dwar the honors of..relieving ya of some stress? Be only fair I help where I can."

"I'm not sure you could be of any--"

"At least let me try, ol'bear!"

Thorin was made to take his seat once more while Bofur followed him behind the desk to lean along the edge with a smug smirk. He leaned in to unclip the thick cloak of bear fur and tucked hands along the arm handles of the seat to draw Thorin into a wanting kiss. Warm, inviting, and soothing, they both snorted with soft chuckles at the silly antics and Thorin reached up to push strands of hair away from Bofur's face. Small murmurs of teasing and lowly snorts of laughter were interrupted by more bouts of affection, Bofur was praised for his friendship for making things just a little more tolerable if not for at least a few fleeting moments. Warm hands calloused by years of work roamed over each other, playful banters followed up with Bofur kissing Thorins neck, hellbent to prove his loyalties to the King came with movements being more precise. Hands pressed upon chest, raked through hair, palms pushing along inner thighs were met with breath hitched and muscles tensing in anticipation. Thorin felt Bofur's hand tug at his belt buckle. The click of it being unclasped followed with a heady exhale as their foreheads bumped together again. Thorin tucked his hands down to meet Bofur's nudging him to stop halfway as finger pinched and rubbed against the thick trail of soft, graying hair leading below.

"You don't have to do th--"

"Áshf mênu rûthuhk."

Bofur's tone was as affirming as ever; he spoke as if he had leadership to command Thorin in such a way. At first, the King was almost offended to be spoken in such a way, talked down to in his own study at that! Yet something within awakened a weird stirring of excitement to be reined and pulled by mere words alone in such a way. It was a rush of anticipation that made him slow in movement as his gaze darted from their hands to Bofur's face that was looking down with rapt attention. Bofur grabbed his wrists and sped his actions up by forcing his hands to rest atop the rests of his seat. Nails dug at the wood and stone handles, knuckles went white at his grip, and Thorin's cock twitched with arousal that brought a startle to him more than Bofur. Bofur was all smiles though, dimpled and cheeky with green eyes sharp as he pushed weight against Thorin's wrist to make sure they stayed put. _What was this feeling?_ Why was Thorin so excited seeing that impish and hungry gaze from Bofur that felt ominous and made his stomach flip. Like the calm before battle, there was anticipation and a rush of blood in all the right places that was relieved by Bofur begging to stroke him. A low grunt as his cheek was kissed, feeling Bofur's breath along his temple while calloused digits squeezed his shaft just right. Slow, warm strokes made his cock swell at the attention that delighted the tingling he felt in his thighs that twitched in reaction. Foreskin was rolled and stroked over head that was going rosy with each passing second, thumb pressed along glands that elicited an inviting sensation of clear drops of precum to emerge from thin slit. Thorin slouched in his seat, doing his best to keep his hands to himself and maintain composure while Bofur watched every little twitch and teased any throb that was to be had. Veins pumped along palm with each stroke as Thorin felt himself go fully erect; all six inches with nearly three and a half inches of girth that made Bofur give yet another tempting squeeze to cause a strained twitch.

"¡Gílem mênu!" Thorin groaned when Bofur mounted a steady and even rhythm of stroking his prick as more precum began to drip from the tip.

"¡Naí durak mênu, un-balakhur men khûzi! Surely ye'can last a bit longer? I've just started," Bofur crooned against Thorins ear.

An exhale of shaky breaths came with heat and redness dawning upon Thorins face. He growled when the blunt of Bofur's teeth nipped at his ear, but he did little to move beyond canting his chin upward and tipping his head to the side as his lover jerked him off. How long had it been for him? He did not know the exact number, but Thorin knew it had been ages since he had been touched in such a way. Of course there were fleeting dilliances with maidens and wenches kn his earlier years, for who could turn down a Prince's advances? Yet he had rarely, if ever, pleased himself during those years back in Luín, nor did he pine for the interests of sex and intimacy like other Dwar did. Cravings? Urges? Those were indeed normal and a given, for what breathing creature didnt hunger for temptations of the flesh. Nevertheless, Thorin's hunger had been widely disregarded and had only recently emerged again when coming upon Bofur months ago. Charming him as best as he could, but to no avail and it only made him want Bofur more. For he had been denied and deep down he felt the young princeling who was so used to getting what they asked for, only to be denied, throw themselves into a fit of mute tantrums. Thorin had never felt this way before; the swelling ache of his prick of being nudged closer and closer to a breaking point, the way Bofur crooned sweet, seductive words in Khûz in his ear made him shiver in all new ways that he did not wholly understand, nor in that moment was he able to question it.

"¡Bofur, mén smiddâg mênu záki!"

"Tcht! Mén zirkíh irkât kanûr rûthuhk uzbar?" 

"Yes!"

"What do we say, love?"

Thorin hitched a breath and exhaled a throaty groan when he felt Bofurs thumb over glands again, this time smearing precum and going further to rub along the swollen head that was going purple with excitement. He was close to bursting and it made his pupils wide, hair stand on end like an angry feline, and body tense while his thighs flexed hard in warning. His hips pumped his cock against Bofur's hand, picking up the pace and panting hard with sweat dripping from his brow. His breathing became erratic, Thorin found himself digging nails into the woodwork of the arms of the chair and with every passing second he looked upon Bofur, those sharp green eyes drank in every little flinch, twitch, throb, and desperate noise he echoed from the back lf his throat. Suddenly, Bofur lashed out, forefinger and thumb grabbing his ear to tug and make his head jerk back as he cried out in pain. By the gods it was _absolutely exquisite!_ The rush of endorphins, the stinging throb melting into blissful numbness that only broke into pleasure hitting his senses like a fist to his face.

" _What do we say?_ " Bofur instructed, his tone loving and harsh as if he were scolding a petulant child.

"¡K-kâhomhilizu! ¡Gûchir, mén kâhom a-mênu!"

Suddenly there was a loud banging of the double doors that made them both almost jump in the air. Bofur was quick to pry his wet hand free as he sucked on his thumb with eyes wide and brows raised to look at Thorin who only looked back with equal worry.

_ What do we do!? _

_ I don't know? Get out! _

_**Where!?** _

"Shit!" Thorin hissed under his breath to look around. "Go behind the curtains, there's a doo--"

But Bofur was already throwing himself onto the floor and scrambling between Thorins legs to squeeze his bulky frame under his desk.

" _What are you doing?!_ Get out from there, just use the--"

" _Shut up and act natural! Pretend I ain't here!_ "

_**"Bofur!"**_ Thorin hissed again, while trying to grab at the Dwarf to pull him out from under his desk.

He was bitten and it made him yelp out a curse in surprise that Bofur has any gall to snap at him like some starved stray! Yet Thorin heard the groaning creak of the double doors opening and was quick to shuffle about to pull himself and the chair closer so that his lower half that was still exposed was tucked and covered from view. Even better, he grabbed his cloak and adjusted it somewhat to cover a little more before pretending to grab a few sheets of paper from his desk. Balin looked genuinely pleased to see him still about and the oldDwarf walked casually up to his desk with a beaming grin upon his face.

"Oh, so ye are awake. Good! There's a few last minute things that be needin' yer signature," Balin said happily as he held a few thick leaflets. The papers were placed before Thorin and he leaned over his desk to squint down at them before fidgeting slightly to clear his throat.

"A-alright, I'll...get to these... _later_."

"Later?"

"Aye."

"Not now?"

"Well I--" Thorin blinked slowly and did his best not to make eye contact with Balin.

"Ya look as if ye just came outta practice with Dwalin, laddie. You alright?" Baline asked, sounding concerned.

Bofur fidgeted under the desk, hand going back to Thorin's prick as he felt the subtle spasm of the base, making his hand move somewhat. Impish as ever, Bofur didnt stop there; he leaned in to kiss the tip quietly and rolled his tongue along the head to give a curious taste of the dripping precum. Salty and warm, the flavor made him lean against Thorin more as his mouth took in a few more inches of his lover's fat cock. Thorin almost groaned, but masked it by clearing his throat and leaning forwards as he amended his statement, swift to give an excuse that troublesome thoughts had led him to brooding too close near the fireplace again. Balin shrugged it off and started his tangent on the leaflets, the main one in particular was of an opening for a Foreman position in one of the mines that was to pay handsomely for whomever took the job. Thorin tried to pay attention, truly his brows furrowed with palm pressed against his mouth to bite against the fat of his hand. Bofur too was using all of his willpower not to draw any attention to himself, but the confines of his hiding spot were small and humid; his knees ached, his back was hunched, and he was forced to breathe harder from his nose. Even worse, Thorin was trying to close his legs and the leaning of his body made groin push and shove his cock deeper against the back of his throat which made him heave and bow his head in attempts to pry himself free from the wedged position. Every little movement caused prick to throb, veins to twitch, and skin to slick wet with spit that only made the gradual slide and push upon Bofurs throat all the more easier. The blunt of teeth scraped causing Thorin's shoulders to tense like a cat's hackles and that all too good of a tongue from his lover was massaging every single inch of his fat prick that only demanded his body to beg for more as his mind tried to keep the helm by maintaining decency of a deadpan expression while Balin lectured on.

"There's also to be a meetin with Bard--"

"Cancel it."

"Eh?"

"I-I need some time off, Balin," Thorin breathed quickly.

"Some time off. You...you _are_ aware of the five pound ornament representing your status atop yer brow?"

"Aye I am and I understand my position b-but.." Thorin shuffled papers about, his movements becoming erratic and his tone impatient. "J-just...a weekend to...tooo…"

"Relax?"

_**"Oh gods yes!!"** _

Thorin's face was as red as a barrel of apples and his palm was pushing along his brow as if trying to comb back his hair. He hadnt meant for that to come out as a moan, nor could he even look at Balin in that exact moment who seemed to scoff and dismiss it as Thorin being tired and had yawned out the words instead. Bofur had managed to grip the base of his cock and the combination of slow, stroking tugs met with a hungry, wet mouth against warm lips caused a sharp spasm and a shot of precum that Bofur didn't balk or flinch away from. Bold and hellbent he pried Thorin's cock free from his mouth to swallow precum and spit while letting cool air hit glistening skin as Thorin's throbbing red head twitched against his soft, panting, breaths.  Balin's brow raised as Thorin clenched his jaw and pressed his palm against his mouth again with his own brow twitching and eyes clenched shut. The old Dwar chuffed a noise and gave Thorin a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"I suppose even a King needs a break! Right, Dwalin and I can handle summat this rather easily, but anything that be needin your signature will be put on yer desk for you to have at when ya return."

"Mmhmmnn.." Thorin grunted as he tried to sit up straight. His hand tucked under the desk to shove Bofur at bay, but he felt a mouth suckling on his finger, calloused digits kissed by a wet mouth then a seductive bite along his knuckles that made him hitch a sharp gasp of panic.

"I-I'll send word to Dwalin on his instructions as well. It..it-it'll be nice. _To rest_. Maybe catch up properly with Dis."

" _Oh yes indeed!_ Well, I'll leave ya to it then! Try to get some rest, Thorin. Ya look as if ya've not had a proper rest in days," Balin said with a merry tone as he started to take his leave towards the exit.

"Same to you, Balin," Thorin said quickly as he tried to push Bofurs face away from his groin.

" _ **Goodnight Bofur,**_ " Balin added suddenly with a very pointed tone.

"G'night, Balin!" Bofur replied without thinking.

Bofur made a loud noise, as did Thorin, but both sounds were drowned out by Balin barking loudly with laughter as he slammed the door behind him. Thorin was practically purple and now Bofur's face was so red that he could only pull his hat down low to try and muffle his own laughter. Thorin was humiliated and torn between anger and indignation to snap at the both of them, but he was overcome by a giddy feeling of lust and tense anticipation that made his stomach twist in weird knots when he heard Bofur's laugh. He looked down, saw that cheeky grin and dimples, the upturned curve of mustache wet and wiped dry with the back of his hand made Thorin catch his breath. He felt as if he was doing somersaults; a dizzying rush, the nervous fear, and sweat upon brow made him reach down to help Bofur stand who was still laughing at the funny turn of events. Something about Bofurs smile triggered memories yet again that brought a strange sense of joy and longing that he hadn't felt since he was a princeling.

"Ah hell, none of this was-- _it wasn't supposed to go this way!_ " Bofur said with a bemused shake of his head as he leaned against Thorins desk.

Thorin moved as well, one hand holding his pants for decencys sake while the other hooked around Bofur to pull him in close.

" _Mén arukh mênu…"_ Thorin said so gently that it was spoken like a secret.

Bofur froze on the spot, words dismissed and mind unable to process those words, he wanted to push Thorin away and turn to flee. The rush of excitement and confusion made his heart race and mind buzz. _Was this not what he wanted?_ Truly, to have Thorin Oakenshield, King under The Lonely Mountain, proclaiming that he was needed by his side? _Maybe even…_

"Stay with me. _**Please.**_ Just one night. Nobody, but a single other being has made me feel what I feel in this moment and I do not understand how... _or why_ ," Thorin begged softly as his attention was upon Bofur. "We can keep fooling ourselves and eachother, but you feel it too, Bofur. ¡Nai-mênu Ghívashelûh! Do not let this--"

"¡Ne-mén Íshthaki Dwar!" Bofur blurted defensively to interrupt Thorin's tangent.

It was quiet, Thorin still holding Bofur who looked ashamed ten times over for keeping such a secret, yet those eyes showed defiance and snap judgement ready to take action at the drop of a pin. Thorin raised his hand--Bofur flinched, thinking he was to be struck, but froze again when Thorin cupped his cheek with thumb rubbing over his lips. The King was smiling and Bofur was in a state where he found himself unable to do or say anything as he felt his eyes sting with tears forming at the starting realization. Thorin made their foreheads bump together so gently as he kissed Bofur, running his thumb along his cheek to wipe away tears that fell.

"You are still my _Ghívashelûh_ , Bofur Broadbeam."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Áshf mênu rûthuhk. - Move your hands.  
> ¡Gílem mênu! - I am to burst!  
> ¡Naí durak mênu, un-balakhur men khûzi! - You are so strong and powerful, my warrior!  
> Mén smiddâg mênu záki! - You drive me wild!  
> Mén zirkíh irkât kanûr rûthuhk uzbar? - Shall I make my hands do more?  
> K-kâhomhilizu! ¡Gûchir, mén kâhom a-mênu! - I submit! Please! I beg of you, Master!  
> Mén arukh mênu. - I need you.  
> ¡Nai-mênu Ghívashelûh! - You are my treasure of treasures!  
> ¡Ne-mén Íshthaki Dwar! - I am an Íshthaki Man!


End file.
